When Daylight Dies
by BloodyRose90
Summary: AU: What if Harry Potter had a twin? Scrap that... What if Harry went dark? What would any of this mean for the Wizarding World? A re-telling of Harry Potter's life. Dark!Harry. Child-abuse. HP/DM Slash.
1. The Beginning Of It All

Summary: What if Harry Potter had a twin? Scrap that... What if Harry went dark? What would any of this mean for the Wizarding World? A re-telling of Harry Potter's life.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

A/N: This is a slash between Draco/Harry, but it probably won't happen for a while so if you're looking for a story where they're already in their teens don't read this and don't read this if you don't like reading guy-on-guy :) Lily and James are alive as is Sirius; there will probably be quite a lot of light bashing too...Ah well, enjoy...^^

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><p>The Beginning Of It All...<p>

_In this time are we loving?__  
><em>_Or do we sit here wondering__  
><em>_Why this world isn't turning round?__  
><em>_It's now or never_

_Now Or Never – Three Days Grace_

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><p><em>25th July 1980<em>

The pearly-white full moon, shrouded with grey, misty clouds, hung in the surrounding dark expanse of night and the stars (sparse as they were) pierced the shroud of darkness with tiny pin-points of night. And under the atramental sky, a black bat stole away from a crooked little pub window to his master after hearing a life-altering revelation.

"Ah...Severus." an amused voice called when he spotted the bat that had just flown through the open window in the ante-chamber. The owner of the voice was a tall, authoritative man in his early fifties, dark (slightly greying) hair was styled elegantly to the nape of his neck. His features consisted of a prominent jaw-line and classic-Greek nose, all-in-all, a very attractive man however he did have one slightly _strange _feature: ruby red eyes. Eyes which told everyone who he was – Lord Voldemort.

The bat's form started blurring and a young man appeared, obsidian eyes that bore into any man's mind, a Roman nose and straight, ebony hair to his shoulders made him recognisable and striking to many. He lowered gracefully onto his knees and spoke with a voice full of respect. "Good evening, My Lord."

The Dark Lord smiled down at his Death-Eater of four years with eyes full of..._care? _"Rise Severus, honestly, how many times must I tell you that you don't have to bow to me?" he sighed in exasperation at the younger man, who rolled his eyes in return.

"You'll have to tell me a couple more times, I'm afraid," he replied, his voice layered in amusement.

"Come on and sit down, Severus. I was just going over the paperwork," he informed his follower, striding into a room opposite. Severus attempted to apologise for interrupting his master but Voldemort just waved his concern away. "So what are you doing here? You only reported to me one and an half hours ago?" he asked, once they were suitably seated in plush, black, leather armchairs with a tumbler of deep-amber brandy.

"Well I arrived back at the castle when I saw Dumbledore head out, so I followed him," the younger wizard told the older, who nodded in agreement with his follower's actions. "He went into the Hogs Head and into a private room upstairs, I went after him. A while afterwards a woman appeared about the divination position – Sybil Trelawney."

Voldemort exhaled loudly. "As in Cassandra Trelawney's granddaughter?" he enquired and Severus nodded.

"So he started interviewing her and she was...abysmal to put it lightly," he stated in a dry voice, and the Dark Lord snorted at his curt description. "However when Dumbledore told her she wouldn't have the position she went into a trance-like state, and made a prophecy – about you."

Voldemort's sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Really now?"

"Yes. I managed to hear it all before heading straight here. But I have to tell you it is quite..._enlightening._"

"I imagine so." he commented with humour, waving his hand for Severus to continue.

"It was: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal...He will have one of two choices...Defy the Dark Lord like his parents before him...Join the Dark Lord and become unconquerable...The one with the power to empower the Dark Lord forever will be born as the seventh month dies..." he finished with a grim smile.

"That certainly was enlightening Severus. Good observation," Voldemort idly commented, lost in thought. "The only witches expecting at the end of July is Longbottom and Potter, correct?" he asked the younger man, noting the scowl at the second name and filing it away for later.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Two light families," he mused "They would never willingly hand over their child, and undoubtedly Dumbledore has told them of the prophecy and hidden them away somewhere in case I ever found out."

"Unfortunately it seems like something he would do." Severus agreed with a sour face, still thinking about a certain undisciplined man and an impulsive red-headed woman.

"Well then there is only way to solve that problem the,." The older wizard finally said after a couple minutes of silence; Severus raised an eyebrow. "We'll just steal one." he stated, as if it were obvious (which in a way it was) before taking a long drink from his tumbler, relaxing as the fiery substance slid down his throat. _Lovely._

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><p><em>31st July 1980<em>

Lily Potter threw her head back with a scream of agony, she had been in labour for the past 8 hours; healers whispered reassuring and praising thoughts at her whilst checking her over and dabbing her brow with damp towels.

James Potter had been thrown out of the room 6 hours previously, after all he did was pace about – which annoyed his wife to no end. Currently he was outside the room, pacing a hole into the carpet with his best friends Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew for company (Remus had suddenly disappeared one night, and none of them knew where).

"That's it Lily, one more push." one healer cheered on, said woman panted heavily, attempting to get more air into her lungs. She screeched as another large something was squeezed out from her, smiling relievedly as a newborns cry wailed into the night. And Lily sighed a huge sigh of exhaustion and contentment as two bundles were pressed into her arms, her children – her twin boys.

The elder of the two had a spattering of dark auburn hair and dark blue eyes, weighing at 7lb, 6oz.

The younger of the two however, had a shock of black hair and light blue eyes, weighing at 5lb, 1oz, he was tiny, and with one minute knuckle between his boneless gums he was the epitome of innocence. But this boy was born an hour and 43 minutes after his twin, he was born on the 31st July 23:59 PM, born as the seventh month died...

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><p><em>31st October 1981<em>

Six figures stood in the shadows of a tall cottage, and the light streaming from the bottom window was the only indicator the house had inhabitants. The tallest figure stood at the front of the group, leading them.

"Lucius report," commanded Voldemort sharply, staring into the alert silver eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "Where is Pettigrew at the moment?" he questioned the blonde, who just smirked maliciously in return.

"In the atrium of the Ministry clutching his confession in his grimy, pudgy little hand. Soon everyone will know exactly who betrayed the precious Potters," he informed them happily.

"Honestly Lucius. It is really hard to forget your flair for dramatics with these acts you perform." Voldemort sighed exasperatedly. "I said place him in a natural position where he could easily be found, not in an extremely suspicious place where people will doubt his sincerity as he confesses all his sins on a couple sides of parchment." Lucius didn't even find the act of at least _looking _apologetic worth his time, as he grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Voldemort just shook his head in resignedness and addressed the rest of the group.

"Are you ready everyone?" Voldemort asked the five youths before him, his five most trusted. Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphous, Rabstan and Bellatrix Lestrange. The all nodded back at him, with the exception of Bellatrix who bounced excitedly on her toes; her beautiful wavy tresses blowing with ferocity in the biting October wind.

Her companions couldn't bring themselves to tell her to calm down, after all for the past five years, she had consulted numerous healers and spent a fortune of the Black money, yet always received the same outcome: infertile. They could never diagnose a reason why she was infertile, she just was, it was one of those horrible coincidences in life. After she found out her condition she hated herself, she fell into depression and retreated from society. All she ever wanted was a child of her own, ever since she was a child herself, she wanted someone her and Rodolphus could love. So when Voldemort told her that she would be the one to care for the Potter boy, she cried tears of joy as her husband silently held her.

"The Potters aren't here at the moment." he informed his followers. "They decided to have some _alone _time," he sneered, agreeing with several exclamations of disgust wrenched from the other Slyhterins. "So they only have their nursemaid caring for them. I want this as a simple stun and grab, got it?" They all agreed, drawing their hoods and placing bone-white masks over their faces to hide their features.

"Now you say it is the dark-haired one we want?" he asked Hogwarts newly appointed Potions Master after Slughorn took a particularly nasty fall down the stairs; Severus stated it was with a tame sneer.

"I am aware you loathe the senior Potter Severus, but really?" he said, shaking his head in chastisement. "This child will soon be a Lestrange not a Potter, do not cloud your judgement with sins that are not his." The younger wizard nodded along to the Dark Lord, offering the man a small smile in apology. "And Severus, I know you used to be infatuated with the girl, will that waver your loyalty to me?" he asked softly; ruby eyes warm, already knowing the answer.

Severus shook his head rapidly. "Never, My Lord. Besides..." he smirked. "I'm how do you describe it? Infatuated? Yes, infatuated with another."

Voldemort sniffed the air. "Yes I heard about that Severus," he told the younger in a voice that said 'we'll-be-speaking-of-this-later'. Severus visibly paled. "But onto the task at hand." The Dark Lord continued with amusement.

"Oh yes, my Lord." Severus quickly replied, scowling as the others chuckled fondly at him.

Voldemort sauntered towards the wooden door, which he knocked upon, and not even a minute later it opened to reveal a young woman with short brown hair and large almond eyes. She froze upon seeing him.

"Hello my dear." he smiled menacingly at her; she squeaked. "Stupefy." he cast with a smirk, watching her body collapse gracelessly to the ground. "Rodolphus and Rabastan guard the back, Lucius and Severus the front. Understood?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, they nodded; Bella continued bouncing. "Bella dear." he called out to her and she turned with a large smile.

"Yes my Lord?" she asked breathlessly.

"You're coming with me to the nursery, just to make you calm down, mind." he told her and she squealed in delight; the others just rolled their eyes at her antics.

"Thank you My Lord."

Voldemort waved her gratitude away whilst casually stepping over the body slumped in the doorway. He glanced around the modest hallway with a sneer forming on his face, spotting the stairs he quickly bounded up them, Bella gliding ecstatically behind him.

A door to his left was slightly ajar and soothing music was being played from it; he entered the room. Pale blue and white walls could be made out in the dark room by a small glowing orb in the corner, Voldemort saw that two cots stood in the centre of the room and strode towards them and stared.

In the cot on the left was the auburn-haired child deep asleep, a blanket hugged to his chest, whilst in the right was Harry Potter. Sitting on his behind, head tilted cutely to his side, his nose wrinkled in thought as he stared into the Dark Lord's eyes.

Bellatrix emerged from behind her Lord, tired of waiting for her Lord to get the baby; as soon as Harry saw the woman though he smiled a toothless smile at her. Bella returned his smile with vigour, crouching to look the boy full in the face.

"Do you want to come live with me, little one?" she asked him excitedly, and the fifteen month old child gurgled an answer; raising his short arms towards her. She quickly stood and removed the boy from his cot, and just as quickly he grabbed hold of some of her hair. She winced but let him continue playing with it.

"It's nice to see you two getting along," commented the Dark Lord, noting how natural she looked with a child hugged to her chest; suddenly a thought struck him "Pass him over, I just need to perform a spell." she pouted at him, but complied nonetheless. "It's just for a couple of minutes Bella," he stated with a laugh; before looking into intelligent emerald eyes. He gently stroke the boy's cheek, and the child giggled.

"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle name you Harry James Potter as my blood brother."Voldemort said lowly, feeling his magic stirring with the archaic ritual words. Speaking a light cutting-curse he slashed a jagged line in his palm, and ignoring the pain he pressed his bleeding hand to the child's forehead. "As marked by my blood, so mote it be."

Voldemort shuddered as a sliver of his magic left his body, rippling through the air until it entered the child via the blood on his forehead. Harry turned his curious green-eyes onto his new brother. "You're ours now little one, now Bella and Rodo are going to look after you aren't they?" he cooed softly, ignoring Bella's giggle, he thought he looked quite dignified.

He was about to give the small child to Lady Lestrange when he felt a familiar and very unwelcome presence enter the vicinity of the house. Stiffening, he hugged the child closer to his chest. "LEAVE!" he roared into the silent house. "Dumbledore is coming!"

"My Lord, pass me Harry!" Bella urged quickly, muscles taut and ready to flee. He was about to comply, wanting the child far away from that man, but there was little time left. Voldemort could feel Dumbledore's magic already half-way up the stairs.

"My Lord!" she cried, tears streaming from her dark-chocolate eyes, arms stretched out for the baby she so desperately wanted to keep.

"I'm sorry Bella." Voldemort whispered to her before waving his arm in a sweeping gesture forcefully apparating her away from the house just as the bedroom door opened.

"Give the child over Tom," Dumbledore warned the Dark Lord, wand aimed toward the two figures.

"Never old man," Voldemort told him darkly; drawing his wand. "Never."

Dumbledore just sighed, "You have left me with no choice Tom."

"Be quiet! "Sectumsempra!" The bright white light shot of his wand. Dumbledore murmured some words, and the mirror hanging on the wall came flying into his hand, causing the curse to reflect back on its caster.

"No!" the denial loud in the silence of the house, and spinning on his heel he bore the brunt of the curse, not the child in his arms who it was aimed at.

The curse rang true, and the Dark Lord stumbled backwards. A magnificent flash of light lit up the skies, and the only sound in the air on the night of Hallows Eve was the lone cry of a babe.

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><p><strong>AN: **So what do you think? This has been stuck in my head for ages! ^.-


	2. The Darkness Is Born

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>The Darkness Is Born...<span>

_Somebody told me that I always have to bow  
>If that was true I would have fallen apart by now<br>The more you think, the less you act their ways  
>So can you hear this, the fake sound of progress <em>

_The Fake Sound Of Progress - Lostprophets_

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><p><em><span>1st November 1981 – 1:12AM<span>_

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, elbows on the desk and chin on his clasped hands; pensively staring into the fire. He had awoken in the ruins of the building that had once been Potter Cottage, (luckily Robert and Harry were safe); Aurors had arrived at the scene and had questioned him thoroughly.

Dumbledore happily enough gave them his statement. He had gone to the cottage after his wards were triggered by a dark presence, he then went into the twins bedroom and discovered Voldemort clutching little Harry to his chest. And before Dumbledore could act, Voldemort had drawn his wand on the child and cast the killing curse; there was a bright flash of light and he was knocked unconscious.

The situation was...surprising to say at the least, and the actual results even more so. Dumbledore honestly did not think that Voldemort would jump in front of the curse for the child, but he could not let anyone else know that. So Voldemort was dead (in the public eyes at least), defeated by a 14 month old-child; Harry Potter – the boy-who-lived. Harry Potter: the prophecy child, the only boy to face the Dark Lord and live to tell the tale, the scar on his forehead marking him as his equal, and now he must support the Light firmly.

Of course having such a child in the wizarding world where he could be corrupted by greed, power and fame just couldn't be possible, no he had to be removed from the public – to his Muggle relatives. Dumbledore would just overlook the fact that these were the worse kind of Muggles possible: prejudiced, bigoted and xenophobic. And he would ignore the fact that these Muggles responded to strange things with physical violence, no, to dwell on such things would just give him a headache. It would be for the greater good, Harry will be much more kind and gentle (not to mention pliable) if he was far, far away from the magical world.

The sound of his door opening roused him from his thoughts, James poked his head in, his normally mischievous face replaced with a grim expression, he fell into the room and Lily appeared. Dumbledore smiled tiredly at them, gesturing to the armchairs in front of his desk which they gladly sat in.

"How are the boys?" Dumbledore asked them, James ran a hand through his messy locks whilst Lily rubbed at her eyes.

"Physically they are fine, but Harry is really quiet whereas Robert is crying. It's really weird." he told the older man with a confused face. Dumbledore just sighed.

"It is to be expected I think." the elderly wizard said. "Harry has been through a hard time, he's probably in shock. Which brings me back to his situation." he addressed the two parents, who glanced at each other before looking at their mentor.

"We think he should go to my sister, just until all the fuss dies down. They have a child too, so it won't be too much of a bother," Lily tiredly explained to the Headmaster, who nodded along understandingly. "She is a Muggle and far away from us all, it is all for his protection of course, there are many Death Eaters around still."

"I was thinking the same thing m'girl." he agreed with her, reaching over and squeezing her hand briefly with an assuring smile. "It's a sad fact, but he will understand." he told her, Lily just nodded. "Would you like me to arrange everything?" he asked her gently and she bit her lip.

"If you would." she replied with watering eyes, he just smiled at her again.

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><p><em><span>1st November 1981<span>_

Vernon opened his front door cheerfully, whistling a nursery rhyme as he looked about the street; reaching down with sausage fingers to retrieve his milk – he faltered. A child was on his doorstep. A child with blue lips and shocking-green eyes,wrapped in a light-blue shawl which he had been left in all night. Vernon stood gaping at the sight which was definitely_ not_ normal before doing the only thing that would solve this confusion.

"PETUNIA!" he called into the house, and seconds later a blonde woman with an extremely long neck appeared next to her bulging husband with an irate look.

"What is it Vernon? I was feeding Dudders-" she trailed off as she spotted what her husband was staring at. "Get it in!" she hissed at him, "Before the neighbours see!" she elaborated, swiftly moving back into the kitchen where a blonde, pudgy child was banging his fists against the table; Vernon quickly followed after her, bundle tucked in his massive arms

"There's a letter." Vernon told his wife, pointing at a neatly folded piece of parchment tucked next to the cold boy. He moved to take it but Petunia snatched it from him, she quickly read the contents and paled, the parchment falling through her slack fingers. Vernon then read it, face growing red with anger.

'Dear Mrs and Mr Dursley,

Last night Lily and James Potter's cottage was attacked by an evil wizard. James and Lily were out of the house at the time so the nursemaid was caring for Robert and Harry. Luckily though Harry somehow defeated the wizard, I am hoping you would take him in for safe keeping for a couple of months.

Thank you.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

"How dare they!" thundered Vernon, crumpling the parchment into a tight ball. "Why do we have to have him? He is going to be a FREAK like THEM!" Petunia nodded dazedly along with her husband, before narrowing her gaze.

"It's all Lily's fault. She always was an impertinent and ungrateful child." Petunia spat with distaste. "Not even raising her own child! She's disgusting." she told her her husband, lifting the basket which held the boy.

"Where are you going?" he asked his wife, hands clenched tightly into fists. Petunia ignored him, balancing the basket on her hip as she threw open the door to the cupboard under the stairs and placed the child in there.

"If we have to look after the freak, I don't want to see him all the time." she told her husband with a disdainful sniff, resuming her child's dinner. Vernon nodded absent mindedly, before walking out of the house and into the company car. _'Today is going to be horrible, I just know it.'_ he thought to himself as he drove out of his drive.

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><p><em><span>7th November 1981<span>_

He twisted the door-knob to no avail. 'Locked – again.' he thought with with a sneer.

Rodolphus Lestrange raked his fingers through his devilishly handsome locks with an exasperated sigh. Removing the fingers from his hair he formed a fist with them and banged them against the tall oak door in front of him.

"Bella! Open the door love!" he demanded, punctuating each word with a pummel against the wood – there was no reply. "Bella, Bella, Bella." he chanted, falling into a heap beside the door and pressed his palm against it; blue eyes forlorn at his wife's behaviour. "You haven't stepped out of your room in a week Bella, and the house-elves say you won't eat. Snap out of it." he pleaded with her.

There was silence and Rodolphus was about to leave when he heard a muffled 'thump' from the other side of the door. "Bella?" he questioned, resting his worried temples against the cool wooden surface.

"They're gone, Rodo." he heard a quiet voice stutter out, he closed his eyes in pain. _'Not again.'_ he whispered in his mind.

"Our Lord isn't gone Bella. Just look at your arm." he told her gently, staring at his own arm. "You know as well as I, that this mark would disappear if he was truly gone. But it's still there love, just faded; he's out their still, growing stronger with each passing day. All we have to do is find him and help him recover!" he told his wife, hoping his enthusiastic words would help pull her from her depression.

"How can we Rodo? He's so far away. And have you read what the papers say!" she suddenly screamed hysterically. "They're saying that our little one defeated him! He didn't, I know he didn't! Our Lord made him his blood-brother for Merlin's sake!"

Rodolphus smiled slightly at his wife's passionate cries, _'At least her spirit's back.' _he thought gratefully. She had been like a ghost ever since she was forced back home from the Potter's, she wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat or exit her rooms. _'It was like she was dead...' _

Rodolphus shook himself, those thoughts wouldn't do any good. "I know love." he told her reassuringly "It was Dumbledore. All Dumbledore's fault."

"And now we'll never have our little one..." she forced out with a sniff, 'I'll never have him, I'll never have children!' she moaned pitifully, and Rodolphus heard quiet sobs coming from the other side of the door.

"Bella, love." Rodo started once he heard her crying, he had been party to this situation too many times before, and knew exactly where her self-pity would lead her. And Merlin knew he didn't want that.

"DON'T RODO, DON'T!" she screeched through the wooden door. "YOUR WORDS DON'T MAKE ME FEEL ANYTHING! JUST ONE THING. I JUST WANTED ONE THING! Was that too much to ask?" she faltered off, her tears reaching a new level and Rodo felt like his heart was breaking at the helplessness his wife was feeling.

"Bella..."

"SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!"

Rodolphus felt something inside him react to the words. "NO I DON'T." he roared back at her. "I DO NOT KNOW A THING UNLESS YOU'LL TELL ME! AND IT'S NOT LIKE I'VE HAD TO PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER AGAIN EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU'VE BEEN DESTROYED FROM EACH MISCARRIAGE AND EVERY NEGATIVE RESULT. NO IT'S NOT LIKE I WAS THERE AT ALL WAS IT?" he snarled, derision dripping off his tongue, acting like acid on open wounds.

"AND IT'S NOT LIKE I WAS DEVASTATED EACH TIME WE LOST A CHILD WAS IT? NO, BECAUSE RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE WOULD NOT WANT KIDS BECAUSE HE'S A HEARTLESS BASTARD. ISN'T THAT RIGHT? AND HE DOESN'T SUFFER THROUGH WATCHING HIS WIFE TORTURE HERSELF OR DIE A LITTLE INSIDE EACH TIME SHE BERATES HERSELF, AND WOULD NEVER COMFORT HER OR LOVE HER STILL! WOULD HE?"

Heavy panting was the only result to his venomous tirade, and he was still gasping for breath even as the door opened slightly. "Bella?" he questioned once he had regained proper use of his voice and he opened the door further and stepped inside.

Bellatrix was curled in the foetal position just beyond the door, a bright-blue stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to her bosom. His heart was pained at the sight, his wife so defenceless holding the toy that would have been their first child's if Bella hadn't miscarried.

He swiftly moved into the room, falling beside his wife and pulling her close to him. Back to chest, hands carding through curled-locks, muttering assurances into seemingly deaf ears, as she sobbed into the rabbit.

They stayed in that position for countless minutes._ 'For as long as is needed.' _Rodolphus corrected absently. _'Until she can stand by herself again.'_ he thought. '_Until she can face the cruel world with her sadistic smirk and bright eyes and with her cold demeanour and haughty looks and all the other quirks I fell in love with.'_

"I'm sorry" she whispered, rousing him from his thoughts, "I-I never realised how this affected you and I should have. I'm your wife, I should support you as you support me. And I've failed you Rodo, I'm so sorry." she choked out, attempting to look away from him in shame, but the hands in her hair stopped the action.

"Bella love. You don't need to apologise. We'll start again." he promised her with a smile. "What shall we do tomorrow love?" he asked her, relieved when she finally met his eyes.

"Away." she answered distantly. "Away from here. Let us find our Lord." Rodolphus nodded along with her, a fresh start was what they needed. Away from England for the time being, one day they would return, hopefully with their Lord in tow.

"Yes, that's a good plan." he told her happily and she offered him a watery smile.

_'We will get our Lord Back, and we will get our little one too.'_ Rodolphus silently vowed, even if his wife didn't know it yet.

* * *

><p><em><span>6th July 1991<span>_

_'I hate Lily and James Potter' _That was one of young Harry Potter's first thoughts, along with _'I hate the Dursleys'_ and _'I hate this cupboard!'_ Hate, pure unadulterated hate, one of the only emotions the 10 year old boy had experienced in his entire life, in fact, the _only_ thing that he actually liked – were his dreams.

He dreamt of a young woman with beautiful curly hair and kind chocolate eyes, asking him whether he wanted to stay with her. Harry had thought this women was his mother, but she wasn't, he knew what his mother looked like and the dream women wasn't her. Sadly.

He also dreamt of a handsome middle-aged man performing some sort of spell to become little Harry's brother. Magic, what a wondrous thing, celebrated in his dream world, scorned and hated in this world. Young Harry Potter did know what magic was, he had known for a long time, but that is for later on...

He was currently huddled in the too-small cot in his hated cupboard; the shadows and darkness (for he wasn't allowed a light bulb) hid the bruises that marred the ten year-old's fragile body, hid the haunted emerald eyes and hid the cruel smirk which appeared whenever the child thought of ways to punish those he hated.

But those looks should not be on a person so young, it was ghastly to think upon the horror and torture a child has to endure to become warped enough to create those expressions. Horrible to think upon the people who had the stomach and heart to create the horrors the child had to face. How could they corrupt an innocent babe? Poison him against the world? Destroy his youth and any child-like emotions that go hand-in-hand with it? Inconceivable, unbelievable, unthinkable.

And yet it had happened...

"BOY!" thundered the voice of his whale of an uncle through the cupboard door and Harry stared at the it with derision. Boy, one of the only two words in this house used to address him by. "We want breakfast, make it!" he demanded. Harry heard him unbolt the and plod away; he uncurled and stretched, ignoring the protestations of his pained and stiff body.

Upon opening the door, he squinted, adjusting his poor eyes to the blaring sun streaming through the obscene orange curtains. Silently walking into the kitchen, he made his way towards the stove, pulling the heavy pans out of the cupboard, careful not to bang them too loudly. He dragged a rickety, old stool from under the table and placed it in front of the cooker, for his ten year-old body wasn't tall enough to see above the stove. He had just placed 9 eggs into the hissing oil when his aunt entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

"Freak." she stated coolly,_ 'There it is, my other name.' _Harry thought with a sneer. "Your mother has sent another letter, would you like to hear it?' she asked in a sickly-sweet voice. _'No I wouldn't you cow.'_ he thought but didn't state this, he didn't need to add any further injuries to his list. "Of course she needs some sort of contact with you doesn't she? It's not like dumping her kid on me and never seeing it is abnormal, is it?" she hissed with fury, Harry didn't reply, he had heard the tirade too many timed to care. Desensitised to it, one may say.

Her strangely long fingers fiddled with the wax seal of the envelope before pulling out the parchment, and as she did so something drifted to the table. Petunia's eye lit up with excitement. "Look at this freak she sent you a picture too, isn't that nice." she laughed at him. "It's of your _twin_ and your _loving_ parents, and they're on broom_s_.' she said, gleefully emphasising the emotive words. Harry thought that she may have been hoping for a reaction, she was going to be sadly mistaken then.

Petunia Dursley nee Evans hated the magical world, abhorred it. Being able to perform magic wasn't a gift in her opinion, it was a curse. So she took great enjoyment with punishing her freak of a sister's son, beat the freakishness out of him. She wouldn't lie to her nephew like some may have thought she would, and deny all knowledge of another world and all existence of magic. But they were wrong, she would tell him the truth. Kill his soul with it, Magic was real, and his magical parents abandoned him with Muggle relatives, in favour of his twin who they had kept.

He was of course told of the reasons why he was place with Muggle relatives, maybe in hope that he would accept their pitiful reasons, and agree with whatever his parents said. Maybe they hoped that with them sending him letters, he would feel loved and a part of his real family. Maybe they thought that he didn't know that they knew of his abusive punishments and regular beatings. Harry Potter hated these ideas – they were pathetic.

"Anyway Freak, this is what your darling mother has written." she said, rousing Harry from his hateful mind. "My lovely Harry." Petunia began in a high, nasal voice. "How are you darling? Your father and I have just come back from tea at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore told us that the Muggle Studies professor was retiring so I have been offered the position, isn't that great? So now I'm working with your father and your uncle Sirius, unfortunately I have to see Severus everyday too, I'll have to grin and bare it but your father and Sirius say they'll prank him!"

This was how Harry learnt about the Magical world, through these letters he was sent, it was also how Harry discovered that his dream woman wasn't his mother. And with each word read to him, Harry felt his rage grow, Lily Potter's narcissistic and 'holier-that-art-thou' attitude just annoyed the hell out of him. And to be quite honest Harry quite liked the sound of Severus, quiet and brooding, the type of people who create the best types of revenge. In any case, he liked Severus Snape more than his bully father and godfather.

"Robert keeps asking for you, he misses his little brother! The picture is of the three of us out on the Quidditch Pitch, your father reckons you'll be a brilliant Keeper because Robert is the Seeker in the family! We're really sorry, but you're going to have to stay with your aunt and uncle for a while still. There are still evil men around; last week, a man attacked your father because he thought him a blood traitor! Love you loads. Your Mother." she finished with a great big kiss. "So what did you think of that, Freak?" she asked, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I'm disgusted." he answered her truthfully, and she laughed, it was the only thing they agreed upon.

"Too true, Freak, too true. She is such a selfish little bint, her and that husband of hers. Mother was so happy when Lily turned out to be a witch, so proud. And I was the only one who saw her for what she really was...a dirty little Freak." she stated with hate, crumpling the letter in her hand. "I mean how does she expect you to reply? She didn't even give you her address. She probably didn't want you to reply."

Harry silently agreed with her, too concentrated on not burning the bacon and sausages sizzling in a second pan, to verbally answer.

"She hasn't even visited you once either." Petunia idly commented, fingering her golden wedding band. Harry scowled at the meat, when he was younger and less wise he once harboured the thoughts that his parents would come and save him from his beatings and cruel relatives. But he soon learnt the truth; they wouldn't come. He might have even liked them if they had visited once, would have forgiven them, but they never visited, never took him out, he hadn't seen them since he was a year old.

"I mean if for some reason I had to give Dudders to someone, God forbid the thought." Petunia's voice cut through Harry's thoughts and he vaguely saw her cross herself. "I would at least visit him once a day." And Harry knew she would, Petunia may be a horrible woman to him, but she cherished her son beyond belief.

"How is breakfast coming along, boy?" barked Vernon upon entering the kitchen, kissing his wife on the cheek and opening the morning paper.

"I just finished." Harry replied in a neutral voice, placing three fried eggs, four sausages, five rashers of bacon, a pile of beans and two grilled tomatoes on Vernon's plate, before doing the same for the other two occupants in the house.

"Good." was Vernon's only reply as he continued to read his paper. Harry stepped off his stool and stood on his tip-toes to grasp the heavy plate above him, his mouth watered at the sight but he knew a slice of bread would most likely be the most he would receive.

And he was right, after the Dursleys had finished their meal they absently told him that he could get one piece of bread before going back into his cupboard. Harry just glared at them with his eerie verdant eyes and retreated back into his hated cupboard with dark thoughts.

_'I hate them. Why oh why can't my dreams be real?'_

* * *

><p><em><span>7th July 1991<span>_

It was Sunday, Harry hated Sundays mostly because Vernon Dursley was in the house all day long, this meant the probability of Harry getting beaten was extremely high. He was in his cupboard (as always) because he was being kept away from the residents of the house asVernon's sister, Marge was visiting with her bulldogs. Marge hating Harry would be an accurate statement, Harry hating Marge would be an understatement, he despised her very bones.

All she would do was rage against the Potters, it didn't affect Harry like she originally thought it would 6 years prior when he first met her, it just annoyed the hell out of him. He already _knew _that the Potters were pathetic, he didn't need to be repeatedly told by the woman who gladly spent hours salivating over the newest letter sent from Lily. Sneering and mocking Harry over his mother's words and comments, and he couldn't reply, for speaking just brought pain – and Harry's self-preservation skills were high.

He could already hear their gossiping through the thin walls of his cupboard, this time about how Robert looks like a mutated lion with his wild red-brown hair and dirty clothes – Harry had to laugh at this description because it fit his twin very well. And because of that topic of Robert, their conversation soon moved onto Lily and James' poor parenting skills.

"Honestly." he heard Marge say. "Shouldn't they be in social care? Surely this kind of thing is against the law? You can't fob your children off on someone else, if you have kids you should care for them yourself." she stated in her supercilious voice.

"We've tried Marge, we really have, but we can't get rid of him." Petunia morosely replied. Harry heard a chair scrape across the floor so he assumed Marge must have stood to comfort her sister-in-law. "After all, we have no documentation for the freak, so we can't send him to some school and we can't give him to the authorities because they'll just ask questions."

"You poor dear." cooed Marge; Harry grimaced at the sound.

"Yes but he is useful for some things."

"Good." Marge firmly said. "He should earn his keep and be grateful."

Harry tuned out of the conversation then, he didn't want to to hear about how 'grateful' he should be for the little food received and the chance to redeem himself from his parents sins by the beatings he received. Harry thought that that was just an excuse to beat him, Vernon didn't need a reason for violence.

And Harry hated excuses, he thought they were a pathetic way to justify one's deeds with sweet words, and thought they were lies to fool one's self of the side of them they didn't like. Harry liked the people who were straight-forward with their thoughts and actions but were able to hide them to gain more power and respect. He didn't want glory and fame because he thought they were overrated, but power? Oh yes, he wanted power, the power to control his life, the power to have other's attention and admiration and the thrill of having enough power to make other's fear.

He already had the power to make other's fear, because despite the Dursley's constant belittlements, Harry knew they feared him. They feared magic and Harry was extremely magical, not that they ever saw him performing magic – they just saw the consequences.

Like the time, Petunia attempted to cut his hair because it was at an 'abnormal length' and shaved half of it off, but the very next day Harry's hair was the same as it always was. Or the time that he ended up on the school's roof when running from Dudley's gang, or the time when Harry was too sick to move after a rather vicious beating and the Dursley's breakfast was already made.

Most people thought that this magic was unintentional, a reflex one may say, accidental magic say the Magical world, but it wasn't. Harry could do many, many things, he could hurt, heal, create, and escape with magic, but everything he did had a purpose.

For example, he had found a broken musical carousel toy when he was cleaning the spare bedroom earlier in the day, Harry quite liked it and had hidden it in his cupboard. When he returned to his cupboard he glanced upon the toy_ 'It looks antique – maybe Victorian'_ that was Harry's first thought upon seeing it, made mostly from cream and rouge painted wood, with ornate cherub and jesters adorning the sides, the horses were bay, chestnut and grey. The handle that operated the carousel was missing hence why it lay forgotten, Harry flexed his fingers with a smile, delighted as the once broken toy was now spinning with a jaunty tune playing happily from it.

Oh, Harry loved having power...

* * *

><p><em><span>11<span>th July 1991_

The bright sun was setting for the day, casting the glorious pastel hues across the beautiful rolling hills and large meadows and paddocks, where the Manor's horses were trotting into the stables for the night. Albino peacocks strutted across the sprawling Manor grounds their beady red eyes glowing in the gowning darkness as they ran from the white-blonde boy that had just appeared outside of the Manor doors.

They opened by themselves when the blonde approached them, but even the spotless House-Elf service did little to change the frown that marred his otherwise angelic features. He strode from the entrance hall, too accustomed to the lavish and intricate furnishings to gape in awe over them (Malfoy's do not gape anyway – Rule 135), his destination was his father's study where he knew his father would be working.

"Draco, how was school?" Lucius Malfoy greeted his son with a small once he saw his eleven-year old child scowling at the floor. Draco locked his silver eyes he inherited to his father's identical one's and huffed.

"Terrible father." he admitted, and Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son. Draco took a deep breath – that was the sign he was looking for "Tell me about Harry Potter, please. The Weasley spawn kept telling me about how he defeated Our Lord! But Our Lord could not be defeated by one so young could he father? And Aunt Bella told me that Harry Potter was our Lord's blood brother, he wouldn't defeat Our Lord, would he, father?" Draco rushed out and Lucius had to stifle a chuckle at his son's exuberance but by his son's glare he would have to assume that his neutral mask was failing.

"Draco you've heard how that night went multiple times, I don't even know why you let yourself be sucked in by that idiot's blathering." Lucius told him and Draco looked away, a blush staining his cheeks at the comment. "Your Aunt Bella and Our Lord went into the nursery to take Harry, Our Lord decided to make Harry his blood brother because then they would be equals, thus proving the Prophecy to be true. He was about to give Harry to your Aunt because she would have been his adoptive mother when Our Lord detected the presence of Dumbledore and ordered us to retreat ends but Bella didn't want to abandon Harry so Our Lord forcefully apparated her away. We can only assume what happened after that but it is more than likely that Dumbledore cast the killing curse at Our Lord. But he is not defeated Draco, don't you ever believe that, your Aunt and Uncle have nearly found him after all." Draco looked at his father with gratitude, he didn't want his two idols to be marred by that red-headed idiot.

"Yes father." Draco dutifully agreed.

"And the Weasels? Pah! I don't even know how they afforded to get another one of their children into primary school. What is her name? Jessy? Gina?"

"Ginny." Draco informed his father with a small smile which Lucius returned.

"Yes Ginny, thank you Draco, just thank Merlin that Andras doesn't attend there." he shuddered with a sneer. "It was a very good idea of Sev and Remus', I wanted to tutor you personally but the Ministry wouldn't allow it." he sighed regretfully and Draco placed his smaller hand upon his father's shoulder, Lucius looked upon his child with pride.

"Is Harry really with Muggles?" The younger blonde asked his father with barely concealed horror.

"Not by his own choice I assure you." Lucius told his son, chuckling at his son's Muggle-phobia.

"The poor thing." Draco sympathised with the boy he had never met.

"I know son, we'll just have to spoil him once we find him, won't we?" Lord Malfoy told his son, molten silver eyes dancing with amusement.

"Yes." Draco nodded firmly.

* * *

><p><em><span>11th July 1991<span>_

Harry had been awake for 6 hours – no it is more accurate to say that he had slept for an hour. His insomnia had been increasing ever since he was five when he only got 5 hours sleep, now he was lucky to catch 2 hours. That is if you exclude his fainting spells where he was unconscious for hours on end, Harry knew why he always fainted, it was a shame that the Dursley's didn't understand too though. Harry thought it was quite obvious, he was starved, worked to exhaustion and regularly beaten but he hardly ever slept; were they really too stupid to understand? Harry snorted to himself, of course they were.

He glanced disinterestedly around his cupboard, he knew every object in this tiny space by memory now. A small bookcase next to the door, Dudley's broken soldiers on top of that, his small cot crammed into the corner below the gas pipes. A thin layer of dust coated every surface, spider webs hung in the corners and the spiders themselves were scattered everywhere. Harry didn't care.

"BOY!" bellowed Vernon, unlocking the cupboard door. "OUT NOW! We want our dinner." he grunted, Harry lazily complied. Fixing a neutral expression upon his face before exiting, automatically closing his eyes from the bright light of the hallway. Upon entering kitchen he saw his fat cousin sat at the table, a bored expression on his face as he stared out of the window at the prim garden with manicured hedges and flowerbeds. Petunia sat opposite him filling a cross-word with utmost concentration, he carefully lifted the stool from its place, after he got lashes for dragging it too loudly the day before. His aunt glanced up at the movement and sneered at her nephew.

"Your mother hasn't sent you a letter today Freak. How do you feel about that?" she asked with malice, Harry just stared at her flatly, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes at his failure to answer. "Well?"

"If I was to be honest, I would say I was relieved." he stated in calm voice whilst pulling a packet of fresh pasta from the fridge and placing it on the surface next to the stove.

"Understandable." was her reply. "And Dudders isn't getting the same as Vernon and I, he can have a cheese salad." she told her nephew idly whilst filling in a one of the cross-word answers.

Harry acknowledged her request and set about his task.

"But mum!" whined the whale at the table, greasy blonde hair clinging to his sweaty skin. "I don't like salad! And you and daddy get all the good food! Make the Freak cook me something nice!" he demanded, banging his fists upon the table.

"Dudders the doctor told me to cut down on your food, so you'll either eat it or you'll eat nothing at all." she told her son with a stern look, the fat boy just crossed his arms and looked away, Petunia ignored him.

"What's all the noise about?" Vernon enquired as he waddled into the kitchen, Dudley immediately began to complain to his more sympathetic father about his eating dilemma. Vernon's double-chin wobbled as he nodded along to his son's complaints, patting him consolingly on the arm.

"Now, Tunny." Vernon began in a chastising tone, "Our Dudders is a growing lad and he needs all the food he can get." Harry had to physically bite his lip in order to not laugh out loud at this sentence, but his eyes watered with mirth as he stirred the pasta in the pan. "This _salad _business will not satisfy his needs, we want our son to be strong and healthy don't we?" Petunia assessed her husbands words and with a quick look at her son she nodded at her husband.

"Boy! Make Dudders his normal tea." he commanded, and Harry mentally sighed as his cooking was nearly finished. He vaguely heard Dudley thanking his father and Petunia commenting on new clothes for her son's rapidly expanding body.

"All right." he agreed, Vernon's face flushed various shades of red before finally settling on a horrible puce. He stormed from his chair narrowing angry eyes that promised pain onto the small boy in front of him; he raised his pudgy hand and swung it across the ten-year old's cheek with a deafening 'crack'. Harry flew from his stool into the cupboards opposite, slamming his head against the corner and with a pained-shout he crumpled to the kitchen floor.

"Show your elders respect, Boy!" he roared, spittle flying everywhere. "You will address me as 'Sir'. Do you understand?" he thundered to the dazed boy below him.

Harry raised his heavy head with difficulty and locked his half-lidded emerald orbs to enraged watery-blue one's. He could hardly feel any part of his body apart from the splitting headache at the back of his head and he had a sneaking suspicion that the stickiness clumping his dirty hair together was his own blood.

"BOY!" screamed Vernon at the near unconscious boy. "Answer me!"

Harry hated the Dursleys, hated his cupboard, hated this life he was leading so he did something that he had been wanting to do for years. He raised his lead-weighted arm with concentration, curling his hand into a fist and lifting his middle and index-fingers in the process. He aimed them at the man dubbed his 'Uncle' and slurred the one word that issued pain but promised liberation. "No" before slipping into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.

"That..." Vernon stuttered in a dark voice. "That little bastard!" he screamed, dragging the limp body away from the kitchen and into the garage where most beatings were held.

"Mum?" Dudley enquired with confusion, pointing at where his nephew was once standing.

"Yes Dudders love?" she asked lovingly, pinching his chubby cheek but her son quickly shrugged her had away.

"Will I still get my tea?"

* * *

><p>Severus wiped his brow on his sleeve with a tired sigh, he had been working at Hogwarts school for ten years now. He was the youngest Potion Master of all time, qualifying at age 19 he had dedicated his youth and free-time into advancing the Wolfsbane Potion for his then-friend and now-lover: Remus Lupin. The updated potion, allows the Werewolf to transform with their complete human mental faculties without pain, the transformation wouldn't harm the Werewolf and they would feel rejuvenated after transforming back into a human. It truly was astounding and Severus was paid a hefty amount for the recipe.<p>

He was currently in his labs preparing the potions needed for the infirmary and he was _exhausted. _He had to be awake at a Merlin-forsaken hour to prepare his class notes, eat his breakfast, teach classes full of pathetic dunderheads Potions and then make more potions until late into the night. No wonder the students thought he was irritable, he hardly got any sleep, or sex now that he thought about it. Remus wasn't allowed into the castle because of his condition and neither Sirius or James would speak to him – Lily would just sneer at him.

Severus growled at the memories of his lover's treatment by his former friends, just because Remus had finally admitted he was gay 10 years prior. Severus hated Lily and James Potter, not forgetting Sirius Black, the cruel bastard. It was hard to relate sweet Narcii and Bella with that cur, then again poor Walburga found it hard to deal with such a disappointing son tainting the most honourable and noble house of Black and promptly died.

Severus shook his head at such morose thoughts and turned to look at the skele-gro potion that was simmering before him. The stupid Potter's let their _Precious Robert _fall off his broom and consequently broke his arm much to the child's sudden dramatic and self-proclaimed demise, so Severus had to brew much more of the difficult potion. _'Stupid Potters with their horrible child.' _he sneered into the bubbling liquid.

Severus thoroughly despised them, they entrusted their child's life to Dumbledore of all people, the deluded fool who believes Muggles are the greatest thing to bless the Earth – the moron. Muggles are the worst sort of people out there, they're abusive, bigoted and thoroughly annoying and the Potter's gave their child to him. '_He gave My Lord's blood brother to Muggles, gave him to the Dursley's and I can't even access their neighbourhood let alone their house because Petunia moved away from her childhood home!'_ Severus snarled as he poured the completed potion into the appropriate vials and exited his labs with a billow of his black robes.

Because Remus wasn't allowed inside the castle, Severus travelled to their home each night, a cottage down in Inverness. It was a collaboration of both of their tastes, Remus had the small garden with a swinging seat overlooking the fields as the sun set, and Severus had the dark climbing vines creeping along the sandstone walls. And every time Severus saw his home he smiled and then smirked, he smiled because this was his and Remus' house and then smirked because he imagined the world's reaction if they ever knew he lived here. _'In such a quaint abode.' _Severus thought, repeating his lover's first observation of the cottage.

He walked through the white-painted, wooden door into the small hallway lit with orange, flickering candles, which led into the comfortable sitting-room where he would find his lover and their nine-year old son: Andras Orias Snape. No-one but the Ministry Official and their closest friends knew of their child, mostly because of the prejudice towards Werewolves in society, even-though Andras did not have the Werewolf virus the insults against his father would be too much for the small child.

Andras was conceived due to a potion Severus created, aptly named the 'Fertility Potion for Men', the potion forces gametes to be produced through meiosis, however instead of the gamete being sperm it is an ova. Once sexual intercourse is achieved, the ova will be fertilised by the partner's sperm and the consumer of the potion will grow a womb where the zygote will be kept. 9 months later the baby will be born through a Caesarean-section.

The potion only managed to increase Severus' Potion Master qualifications, plus it made homosexuality more socially acceptable as heirs could now be produced. Only Remus knew that Severus was also working on a fertility potion for women for his friends Bella and Rodo, but the 30 year-old wouldn't tell them in case his theories failed. _'Honestly.' _Remus thought when he heard his lover's reasons _'Of course you'll succeed.' _

"Hello love, how was it?" Remus asked his lover with a small smile from where he sat on the sofa with their sleeping nine year old boy curled next to him. Severus smiled back at his lover, sitting upon the carpeted floor in able to watch his son and look Remus in the eyes.

"As bad as every other day." he sighed dramatically. "Idiots running about the castle thinking they are able to perform magic better than the actual professors. The Potter spawn broke his arm and now he has to grow the bone back." he smirked maliciously when he said this and Remus chuckled. "So of course I had to brew more of the Skele-grow potion and then I was sorely tempted to silencio him because of his incessant whining! It was terrible!" he cried out. "The Potter mare is flaunting her new position in my face as if I actually care she is able to inform dunderheads about the difference between a plug-socket and a rubber duck, honestly! Black incorrectly taught his first-year class how to perform Wingardium Leviosa and the Gryffindors ended up with singed faces and the like, only my Slytherins managed to incant the spell correctly, annoyed him to Hell too!" laughed Severus and Remus could hear the pride in his voice when referring to the Snake House.

"And what of Potter himself? He must have done something." Remus asked, lovingly stroking his son's pure-black hair.

"Just fussing over his pathetic son, I still cannot believe he actually qualified that healing course, he is the epitome of stupidity. He practically failed his O.W.L.s and his N.E.W.T.s, even Black scraped through with decent enough grades, and _he_ only got the job out of favouritism." Severus growled out "Well that or pity." he corrected.

"Most likely." Remus agreed, placing a hand on Severus' arm. "Dumbledore always was a blind fool, well fool is the wrong word as he is always scheming but you know what I mean."

"I know love." Severus said. "Any word from Bella?" he asked, surprisingly those two became good friends despite Remus' creature status. Remus glanced at his lover's thoughtful expression and smiled slightly.

"They have narrowed down the search to either Albania or Serbia. They're thinking they'll have Our Lord back soon." Remus informed his lover. "Rodo says that Bella is still grieving." he said with a frown.

"Well he's hardly dead." Severus stated dryly and Remus shot him a withering look, which quickly made Severus pale. "I'm not trying to be insensitive!" he cried defensively and the Werewolf only raised an eyebrow as an answer. "Well he isn't dead, he is alive in the Muggle World and we can't get him because Petunia has moved to Surrey somewhere and that idiot has placed a magical ward up that only the Potters and he can pass through!"

"I know love." Remus returned softly before glancing up sharply. "Have they even visited him?" He suddenly asked, and Severus thought that Remus' maternal instincts were in overdrive! "Surely they wouldn't abandon their child completely."

Severus glared at nothing in particular. "They've never even once bothered to meet their son, they only send him pathetic _letters_." he sneered the word with distaste, Remus nodded along, completely agreeing. "Wait." Severus stated, quickly standing and walking off, Remus stared at him with confusion.

"That bitch sends him letters, why have we never done so too?" Severus questioned once he returned to his lover's side with a quill and leaf of parchment.

"I." Remus paused with disbelief. "I don't know. How can we be so stupid?" he cursed. "Go on. Get writing!" he demanded, and Severus didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Here lies the end of Chapter two, so what do ya think? ^.^

And a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed, faved and subscribed. Happy Holidays everyone!


	3. On This Day

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><em><span>On This Day...<span>_

_I've been defeated and brought down_

_Dropped to my knees when hope ran out_

_The time has come to change my ways.**(1)**_

* * *

><p><em><span>11th July 1991<span>_

"You. Little. Bastard." grunted Vernon at his nephew, punctuating each word with a kick to the stomach. "You. Ungrateful. Whelp." The ten year-old's body shook with each blow, one arm lay across his abdomen whilst the other was bent at the elbow, so his hand was resting on the cold stone floor somewhere above his head. He was lain on his side, his body had little strength to curl into the foetal position so his body was fully exposed to the man.

Blood slowly trickled down his chin from where he was biting his lip to hold back the screams. The man had a lot of enjoyment teaching that particular lesson to the boy, and that lesson was extremely painful, but he quickly learnt it - screaming only equalled pain. It angered the man, maybe it was because somewhere deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong. Harry would have laughed at that thought if he had the strength. Vernon Dursley held no regret for his actions, and only the most naïve would believe he did.

Harry had woken up about 10 minutes ago, to the angry tirade that the man always spewed. The child's head was resting upon his right shoulder, jolted there by the abuse his body was being subjected to, yet being unable to lift it from the pain. From his position, Harry could see the rectangular gap from where the garage door had not shut properly. The little of the garden he could see was bathed in darkness, the beautifully manicure gardens shrouded by the night sky. _'How long have I been here?'_

As the kicks to his stomach continued, Harry realised that it didn't matter how long he had been in his torture chamber. He would soon be gone from no:4 Privet Drive, whether it be on his own two feet or in a body-bag mattered little to him, he would be free from these Muggles. Harry clung to this fact with all his might, it was his salvation, he would not let himself be broken by Vernon, even if it was his last action on this Earth.

It ached to breathe Harry noted, but he wanted, needed...craved each sweet intake of air with vigour, knowing that each puff of air was continuing to fuel his battered body, despite the unlikelihood he would survive. But with each loving breath heaved into his lungs it also burned him, branded him as worthless because he couldn't defend himself. Could never protect himself from his 'family', could never refuse them and could never fully ignore the niggling feeling at the back of his mind, whispering to him that it _hurt _to be rejected by those who were meant to comfort him, nurture him, _love _him.

Harry snarled at himself and mentally pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, he wouldn't be _doleful _because of the Dursleyshe would _hate _because of them,and he wouldn't be ashamed of his past, he would relish in the memories. The memories would only anger him and remind him of his plight, remind him of his reason in life – revenge.

A sharp pain across his naked hip brought him from his thoughts, _When did my shirt come off?'_ he glanced sideways with a groan and saw his uncle looming over him, belt wrapped around his pudgy fist. He raised his arm with a huff and struck once more, and Harry gasped in pain as his flesh was torn open from the sharp, silver buckle. The belt was brought down again and again.

His hair was pulled upwards violently so his eyes were locked onto his Uncle's puce-coloured face, Vernon leaned over so his lips were next to his nephew's ear. "This is what you get for not knowing your proper place, boy." he told the small boy with menace; his horrid breath making Harry want to gag.

"For talking back to your betters, you show respect in this house boy. You are the lowest of the low, the filth on our shoes and I don't care what your kind will say, I've had enough of your presence in my house." Harry's breath stilled at this, he was finally going to escape this torture.

Vernon did not say anything else after that, he just looped his belt back into his vast trousers and waddled out of the garage and into the house, leaving his ten year-old nephew bleeding on the cold floor, various bodily fluids spattered across his body and crumpled jeans draped over his shaking frame._ 'If I survive this, Vernon Dursley will pay.'_ Harry swore to himself, and preferably the man would pay with his life.

But he hardly dared to believe it, he was finally going to be free of the Dursleys, he was going to be alone in the cruel world outside of 4 Privet Drive. His head drooped and emerald eyes fell closed, as he drifted into Morpheus' comfortable embrace. He didn't see the small brown owl soar in through the window at the top of the Garage, or see it deposit a folded piece of parchment into his too large jeans' pocket, or how it stared at him with saddened hazel eyes before flying back out of the window.

* * *

><p><em><span>12th July 1991 – 7:58AM<span>_

Harry squinted at the obscenely bright sun from where he was laying, he peered around at his surroundings without moving his pounding head. Broken glass was scattered sporadically on the concrete ground around him, a grimy brick wall was to his about 6 feet to his left and he knew his right-side was pressed against another. From the narrow gap behind him he could hear the hurried bustling of the human world, cars whizzed past, their exhaust fumes clogging the air, their engines deafening to his ears, mingling with the shouts of narrow-minded youths coming from the pavement trailing the road.

Harry had to fight the urge to laugh hysterically, his want to escape the Dursleys clutches was so great that he ended up in this hell. The scum of the human race, the lowest of the low, Harry thought his surroundings represented the human race perfectly.

He knew that if he moved then the pain would be terrible, but he couldn't stay in such a vulnerable position. So ignoring his protesting limbs, burning back and cramped stomach he staggered onto his knees. His breath came in haggard pants, his mind was swirling, and from the searing sensation across his back, he knew that his new adornments had torn open. Blinking back the tears, he leant to the side and puked onto the dirty ground, mentally grimacing at seeing his weakened state, shown from the amount of blood in his sick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and settled onto his arse.

From his higher perspective, he saw a small tightly-folded piece of parchment, poking out from the jeans he had been laying on. Harry snarled at the sight, if his _mother _thought he willingly read her scribblings she would sorely be mistaken. But as he looked closer at the parchment he saw an unknown person's handwriting, it wasn't his mother's that was for sure, her writing was like chicken scrawl whereas this person's was hurried yet elegant. His curiosity was peaked.

_Harry Potter,_

_I am berating myself constantly because I had never thought to write to you before, I only thought of it now because I saw that [redact], sorry your mother flaunting her letter at Hogwarts._

Harry snorted at the opening sentences of the letter, it was quite obvious that this person hated his mother and was somehow related to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He continued reading.

_Undoubtedly you have probably only heard bad things about myself since I am your parent's undesirable no:1 (second only to Voldemort probably) however my name is Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. I would have tried to access your Muggle relatives residence, however only a select few know the destination of it and even fewer are allowed to get through the wards. And unsurprisingly and unfortunately I (nor any of my acquaintances) are one of these few, however I do know that your [heavily scribbled out word] parents have never visited you, the little [redact]._

Severus Snape, the person Harry preferred over his biological parents, silent and clever – the ultimate revenger.

_Due to the contents of this letter being highly dangerous to me and mine if it ever became public knowledge, I have placed a silencing spell on this letter so you can never speak of these matters unless I allow you to._

Harry's opinion of this man was just increasing with every word he read. He was cautious and self-preserving, _'How devious' _Harry thought with a smirk.

_Whatever your mother has told you about the events that led you to living with those [redact] – ahem, Muggles, is a lie. Mostly because the truth is only known to a few, and their Saint Dumbledore has given his version of events and of course must be taken as verbatim (note the sarcasm)_

_There was a prophecy made about a boy who would be born as the 7th month dies and he would either defy the Dark Lord (like his parents have thrice before) or join him and become unconquerable. The boys were narrowed down to three, Neville Longbottom, Robert Potter and yourself, however you were the youngest – being born at exactly 23:59PM. My Lord went to the Potters Cottage with myself, and 5 others (including your future adoptive parents, Bellatrix and Rodolphous Lestrange),but only Bella and our Lord went into the nursery, the rest of us were guarding the entrances._

_Bella told us that Our Lord made you his brother in blood – an extremely high honour, I can assure you. But our Lord detected Dumbledore's presence and forcibly made her leave the house, none of us know what happened afterwards, however My Lord was struck with the Killing curse and Dumbledore knocked unconscious. However because of precautions My Lord made, he is not fully dead, but rather wandering the Earth as a spirit at the moment._

_Afterwards, Dumbledore in his 'wisdom' (ahem, very manipulative mind) concluded that you must have rebounded the Killing curse because you have a magical scar (but that scar is just a family ritual scar) so you must be sent to be live a 'safe' and 'happy' life away from the 'evil' people out to get you._

_Bellatrix was devastated when she learned she could not raise you, she cannot have children of her own and you were going to be her precious son. She, her husband and his brother are currently out of the country searching for My Lord's soul, her sister and brother-in-law have a child the same age as you, and me and my lover have our own son._

_But if you are in Dumbledore's control just think over this letter, if you are your own individual reply and learn more. The owl who delivered this will be about somewhere, just call her name – Tawny._

_Severus Snape_

_P.S: I have enclosed a photo of us all from 12 years ago, if you are interested._

Harry stared at the writing with understanding dawning on the horizon of his mind, everything eas much clearer with Severus' view and his dreams made sense. He never thought that he was the 'saviour' that his mother seemed to proclaim, in truth he hardly gave a damn about anyone apart from himself, so in no way would he save everyone from such a powerful wizard.

He glanced at the photo, not surprised with the figures moving because of the amount of photos his mother had sent him. 5 youths and a middle-aged man were in the photo, two nearly-identical men with dark hair and aristocratic noses were scowling as a tall man with long blonde hair flicked their ears. The middle-aged man from his dreams stood at the side with an amused smile aside a tall man with black hair tied into a ponytail staggered into the other 3 youths after the middle-aged man pushed him, whilst the woman he used to think as his mother was on the floor because she was laughing so hard.

Flicking the photo over he saw the freshly-written names on the back, _'Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan, Rodolphous and Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape and the Dark Lord – photo taken by Narcissa Malfoy.'_

Harry had to smile at the photograph. _'So it is true.' _he thought. _'They are real and they really wanted me.' _He couldn't identify the emotion he was feeling when he looked at the photo, but he liked it, it made him feel safe. _'Unless.'_ his mind thought, unbidden cynicism appearing. _'This is all __a dream, and in reality you are just dying.'_ Harry closed his eyes briefly at the comment, it was perfectly true after all, he just wished that it wasn't. But that was just another lesson he learnt early on in life – wishes don't come true.

In the haze that was his mind, random sensations, images, and words of his life emerged from the dark depths of his memory. And he couldn't help but mourn the collection of books which he had amassed over the years, left to grow mould and gather dust. And his carousel which would be laying, forgotten about in his small cupboard under the stairs. Or the fact that he never got to punch Dudley, he never managed to save Cecile, never told his parents what he thought about them, never burnt the Dursleys breakfast, the list was undeniably endless.

With a laugh he remembered a song that he had heard on a TV show Vernon was watching once. _'Is it bad that those lyrics are so fitting for my life?' _he questioned himself, roughly rubbing his chest as coughs racked his painful body.

His throat was tight and jagged, but he opened his mouth to sing nevertheless. "On this day, it's so real to me." his voice low and hoarse from the pain. "Everything has come to life, a bitter place and a broken dream. And we'll leave it all, leave it all behind."(1) and if someone were to hear him they would say he had a terrible voice, however the emotions were abundantly clear. With each word sang, you could hear and literally feel the sorrow and hope in his soul.

And with that fact, he lifted his hand, agonisingly slowly, soaked in the blood oozing from his reopened-wounds, and wrote what would possibly be the first and last letter of his entire life. His last chance to confess his thoughts to the world – even if it was just a dream.

* * *

><p>Severus was at the Head Table, sneering at any students lingering gazes upon himself, ignoring the Potter bastard's and Blacks bitching and the Potter bint's whining, thinking about how Harry received the letter he sent. Was he angry that he contacted him? Confused? Severus didn't know what to think.<p>

The students themselves were their normal selves, the Gryffindors loud and obtrusive, the Huffelpuffs happy and smiling, the Ravenclaws quiet and observing and his Slytherins smirking and proud. The teachers were their normal selves also, Dumbledore twinkling at everyone, Pomona chatting bubbly to Poppy and Minerva, whilst Hagrid and Silvanus were having an interesting debate with Sinistra on Acromanutla. The two males for them and the female against, on account of them having too many limbs, leading to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor to mutter about his lacking number of said appendages.

He wasn't particularly hungry as he glanced at his lunch, a cheese ploughman sandwich – his favourite. He glanced at the enchanted sky, he really wanted his lover in the castle, within reaching distance. He thought about next year when his Andras would start Hogwarts and then Remus would be lonely, he frowned at the image of a depressed lover. '_Although Narcii did say that she would spend her days with him as she would also be lonely with Draco and Lucius away.'_ he remarked to himself, attempting to appease the guilt that had accumulated in his gut – he did not achieve his goal.

A loud crack of wings flapping caused all eyes to swivel towards the brown, barn owl that had flown into the hall, flying towards the mysterious Potions Master. Tawny dropped the letter into his hand with a small hoot and flew to the Owlery, Severus opened the parchment and noticed that the child's writing was on the back of his own letter. He also noticed the dirty fingerprints and how the writing was too thick and messy for a pen, as if it was written with a finger (albeit an extremely thin and spindly one). And he noticed how the 'ink' looked suspiciously like blood; Severus narrowed his eyes at this.

_Dear Severus Snape,_

_I quite enjoyed your letter, I have indeed heard many badmouthing's of your esteemed self from that cow (ahem)...I mean my mother, however I have always liked you over my selfish mother and pompous father, believe it or not. And if you hadn't have put the silencing spell on this parchment then I would have been disappointed in you Severus, I always knew you would meticulously plan before revealing details of yourself._

Severus eyebrow's shot into his hairline at this and could hardly fight the smirk growing on his face – many students cowered at the look.

_I never believed the drivel my mother sent me about the events on the night of 31st October 1981, mostly because I have had dreams of that night. Of Your Lord – my brother, and Bellatrix, and I always remembered their kind smiles and the affection in their voices._

_I won't lie to you, I am sentimentally attached to Your Lord and Bellatrix however I am attracted to power. I want power and my brother and his 'friends' seem _very _powerful, I don't like being powerless and I want revenge on many people, however that can wait. Revenge is sweeter as the days go by, I recall._

_My only regret is that I am unable to bring my brother back to the world of corporal forms, as I am quite sorely incapacitated. But like you have asked, I have contacted you, so would you take me in? I have finally been removed from the Muggles however I now find myself homeless and quite in need of some assistance/attention/medication._

_I know I am in Surrey, down an alley and unable to move. Maybe a locator spell would determine my location? If such things exist of course. And if that doesn't work Tawny could maybe show you. After all, it cannot hurt to try._

_HP, or Samael – I never did like the presumptuousness of my birth name._

Severus frowned at the letter (only those close to him would know he was worried), Har – no Samael was obviously injured and judging by his way of words quite proud and sophisticated for his age. '_Maybe too adult for his age' _he thought with a frown.

He stood with the intention to quickly pen a note to Remus about the reply so that Remus could find Samael in his stead, however the old fool stopped him.

"Trouble Severus?" he asked with a kind smile that made Severus sneer return.

"No Headmaster, I just received some rather unexpected news about the latest Potion ingredients needed for the school supply," he lied effortlessly like the true Slytherin he was, and was quite proud as he saw Dumbledore's twinkle falter. "If that was all, Albus," he stated with impatience, rising an eyebrow at the man.

Dumbledore waved him away idly and Severus gladly exited the room, again ignoring the taunts Potter and his pals sent his way.

* * *

><p>"So Albus Dumbledore defeated Gellert Grindewald?" asked Andras to his father, confusion evident in his voice as he looked at the parchment in front of him.<p>

"Yep." Remus smiled at his son who was already reading History of Magic texts two years above his grade level.

"Why did he do that? It was obvious that he just wanted less bigotry towards classification of magic and less contact with Muggles. He was doing a good thing," Andras replied, confused amber eyes focused on his father's face.

"It was because of how he was actually doing it, he was killing many people to make a point and the government didn't like how he effortlessly took lives," Remus informed him.

"But didn't other wizards and witches murder his supporters in cold blood? Why were they not imprisoned also, if they had committed the same crime?"

Remus sighed, sometimes his son was just a bit too perceptive about the world. "Mostly because they deemed Grindewald as 'evil' therefore anyone seen actively stopping his supporters was a 'hero."

"But..." Andras faltered, he actually had no idea what to say. "It's so confusing," he whined, resting his chin-length black haired head on the table. Remus fondly ruffled his son's hair, causing the nine-year old to swat at his hands.

A ruffling of wings caught his attention as Tawny flew into the window, overlooking the beautiful flowered garden.

"Tawny!" Exclaimed Andras once the owl had given the letter to Remus and he rushed over to the small bird whilst offering her an owl-treat, which she gladly accepted. "What's the letter say dad?" he enquired but Remus remained silent, lip curling into a snarl as he read through the short letter from his lover. Andras didn't say anything for he knew from past experience that it would be futile, so observed his dad instead.

_Remus,_

_HP (wants to be known as Samael) replied. He likes the sound of us, hates the Potters, already knew of Bella and My Lord. He is badly injured, he handled the letter enclosed in the envelope, use it with a locator spell. I'll be back as soon as I can._

_Love, Sev._

"Andras, can you floo Aunt Narcii and keep her company for a while. And please tell her that someone I bring back may be in need of her healing. Have you got all that?" he asked and Andras nodded. "Thanks Andras, love you," he called to his son as he ran out of the house.

In order for a locator spell to work, you needed to incant the spell along with the person's name and something they handled recently. With this in mind, Remus pointed his wand at the letter and spoke clearly. "Locus Harry Potter." Immediately a green thread of light appeared before his eyes, quickly solidifying until it became like a thin chain; he grabbed onto it and pulled. The locator spell acted like a portkey, once you pulled the chain you were transported to the person's location.

His sensitive nose was immediately assaulted with an awful smell, the most prominent was the odour of cars he could hear behind him and the stench of stale piss. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, he quickly looked about, Samael should be here – somewhere.

"Samael." he whispered but there was no reply, he shifted on his feet. _'Where is he?' _"Samael." he said again, this time slightly louder. An answering moan to his right grabbed his attention, he quickly knelt beside the naked boy huddled into a shadowed corner; knees bent with his head against the wall, breathing with difficulty. Remus silently growled at the bruises and scars that covered the entire boy's visible skin, along with the unmistakable scent of iron which could only be blood. "I'm going to lift you okay Samael?" he asked but the boy had fallen back into unconsciousness.

Placing one arm under the child's knees and the other wrapped around his neck, he stood and lifted the boy easily – he was definitely underweight. As soon as he was upright he span on the spot and apparated straight into Malfoy Manor's entrance hall – social niceties be damned.

"NARCII!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the vast space. "Narcii, I need help," he called out again. "Now!" he added and he soon heard the rapid pace of footsteps of Lady Malfoy racing down the stairs, his son following after her.

Narcissa ran as fast as she could to where she could hear Remus. _'He sounded so desperate' _she thought with worry. She had hardly any time to prepare her medical equipment when Andras had informed her of what was happening. She entered the hall and stood frozen still, a gasp escaping her throat. Remus was carrying the battered body of a boy, a boy who looked the same age as her Draco.

"What happened? Who is it?" she demanded the Werewolf, once she pulled her Healer mind into gear, rushing to where her patient was. "Walk as we talk Remus, I need him in the medical room as soon as," she informed already speeding ahead, Remus easily caught her pace.

"Muggles did it to him," he told her in a tightly controlled voice. "This is what Severus said and from what we can guess. This little boy is Harry Potter," he said sadly, his inner-wolf whining at its failure to protect one of his pack. Narcissa just nodded, she had already suspected who it was; she turned into the open doors on her left and pointed to the medical table in the centre of the room.

Remus gently placed the child onto the table and stood to the side, not wanting to get into the Healer's way; Narcissa cast a spell so her wand-tip glowed pale-blue and ran it down Samael's body. Her mind overflowing with every injury the boy had sustained, whilst her blue eyes flashed with anger at the treatment her adoptive-nephew had faced.

"I need the skele-gro, blood-replenishing potion and bruising slave!" she commanded and the father and son hurried to comply. She quickly cast the antiseptic spell on herself, Samael and the other two males in the room. "Andras rub this lightly into his skin," she told the nine-year old; he nodded at her and did as she told. "Remus, administer the potions to him." The Werewolf obeyed silently, amber eyes grave and angry.

She hastily began chanting words under her breath, wand glowing an incandescent purple as it was waved in intricate patterns over his body. This went on for over 10 minutes and the two males glanced worriedly at her, she was surely exerting her magic; her eyes were narrowed in determination, and beads of sweat were appearing on her forehead crinkled in concentration. With a big inhale of air, she stopped the spell and dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief from her bodice; she turned to the other occupants of the room and fell into the chair Remus hastily conjured with a groan.

"He will make it through – his magic is helping him," she told them and they visibly relaxed at the words only to tense at her next words "He has over 21 broken bones that have not been set correctly, so of course for them to heal properly, I'm going to have to break them again." she trailed off, glancing morosely at the boy in the bed.

"He had a fractured skull and a healing broken ankle, it's a wonder how he ever managed moving regularly." she commented angrily. "He had severe bruising to the stomach and six broken ribs – with one of them puncturing his left lung. I have already drained the affected lung – luckily it was only a simple pneumothorax. He had many open wounds along his back, as well as 26 burns on his whole body and 91 scars. His eyesight was damaged, which is easily fixable of course, but – but." she faltered, her skin tinged green and blue eyes flashing in anger. "Those scars will never heal, and he'll probably never walk unaided again," she choked out.

"Stupid Potters with their idiotic Dumbledore and his merry band of ignorants who say placing a wizarding child with Muggles is a good idea!" she spat to the silent room before turning exhausted blue eyes to furious amber ones "Remus I'm going to lie down, he needs two more doses of skele-gro and more healing salve and if he wakes I suggest some Dreamless sleep." she informed him as she shakily stood and walked towards the door. "I will be back in an hour to re-break his bones and fix his eyesight and then I will retire once more."

"Take care, Narcii." he called out and she offered a small smile in return before she exited.

"I'm going to floo your father, okay Andras. You were a big help, I'm proud of how calm you acted," he told his son who nodded faintly before sinking into the seat Narcissa had just vacated.

_'Disgusting Muggles!'_ Remus thought as he cast one last look on Samael before throwing the powder into the hearth.

* * *

><p>Lucius strode through the gates of Madame Pentreath's Primary School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, with his long blonde hair billowing in the light summer-breeze and ice-cold eyes piercing the beautiful stone castle. It was slightly smaller than Hogwarts but much more ornate and aesthetically pleasing; the sun shone from the large french-glass doors which had just sprung open. Hordes of chattering children escaped the through the doors with gusto as their school term had finally ended for the Summer.<p>

Lucius sneered as he saw the Weasley matriarch being hugged by her two youngest children, their red hair blazing in the sun. They soon noticed his disgust towards them and quickly left through the gates, throwing glares towards the haughty blonde who merely raised an eyebrow at them as the mother pulled her children to her chest and apparated them away.

"Father," greeted the neutral voice of Draco Malfoy and Lucius inwardly beamed at his son's Malfoy traits. Lucius turned toward his son and nodded briefly, eyeing his son's friends with a level eye. Crabbe and Goyle were flanking Draco – they weren't the freshest ingredients in the potion but they were very fierce and loyal, Theodore Nott stood behind Draco – he was quite average in looks and education however his family was very respected in society.

Blaise Zabini stood next to the Nott heir – now he was a highly intelligent boy and his mother had good international connections; Lucius was wary of the Parkinson girl as she was hanging off his son's arm. She was slightly pretty and quite clever, however she was extremely vapid and seem to be obsessed with becoming the new Lady Malfoy – that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Good afternoon Draco," he replied coolly and nodded to each of Draco's friends, who each stated 'Lord Malfoy' in equally passive voices, before walking towards the gates with Draco following behind his father. "I was thinking of taking your mother to dinner tonight, what do you think Dragon?" he asked the blonde boy who smiled at his father's pet name for him and took the arm his father offered for side-along apparation.

They landed on the same path that led to the Manor and casually strolled towards the doors, smiling as they passed the peacocks strut across the grounds. "I think it's a superb idea Father," Draco answered as he gestured his father to enter the Manor before him. "I will be fine by myself. Mother deserves a nice day out, plus it is coming up to your anniversary, so you should get her some flowers or other such romantic objects. That restaurant that opened last month over in London has been getting good reviews, I think it was called the Basilisk."

"That's a very good idea Draco, I'll go tell her now," Lucius praised, and walked toward the drawing-room where he knew his wife would be; Draco hurried after his father, eager to see his mother's happy face. They rounded the corner and greeted Dorian Malfoy's saddened portrait before turning into the empty drawing-room.

"Where is she?" Draco asked his father, who shook his head in return; unease growing in his gut.

"Dobby," he called out and a small house-elf appeared before them and bowed so low his nose touched his knobbly feet.

"Yes Master?"

"Where is my wife?" he asked the elf imperiously, his unease growing as the elf wrung his hands on the small robe he wore.

"She be in your rooms sir. Resting after she healed a boy sir," he informed his master in a shaky voice.

"Who is the boy?"

"I does not know sir. I is sorry," the small creature implored, his green tennis-ball eyes widened in fear but Lucius just waved the elf away.

"Come, Draco," The elder blonde commanded absent-mindedly and they sped up the carpeted stairs. The medical doors were wide open and they saw the tall windows to their left were slightly ajar, letting the warm breeze waft in, and the sun-rays highlight the nine-year old Snape-heir asleep in a chair next to the bed, but the Malfoy's couldn't see the patient because of a potion's cabinet blocking their view.

They stepped further into the room and gasped at the sight they saw. A child the same age as Draco lay on the bed and a sheet covered him from the waist down, however his chest was littered with fading bruises and vicious lashes that were healing right before their eyes. The white scars he had 'earned' throughout his life, however remained on his sickly-coloured, sweating skin.

Andras stirred slightly and groggily recognised the two Malfoy's before him, staring at the motionless body of the child on the bed.

"Oh, hello," Andras said with a voice thick with sleep. "That is-"

"Harry Potter," Draco said breathlessly as he spotted the famous scar between the boy's raven locks, Lucius head whipped around and his silver eyes fixed upon said scar.

"Yeah, Harry Potter," Andras agreed. "It was great that Dad and Father found him when they did, any longer and he would have died from those wounds that those beastly Muggle gave him. Well, night then," he told them cheerfully before falling back asleep, oblivious to the one shocked blonde and the other horrified one.

"How could they do that!" demanded a disgusted Draco. "He's just a child, children are precious – everyone knows that. You don't beat them!" he shouted before grabbing a chair from the corner of the room and placing it beside Harry before sitting heavily into it.

"We know that Dragon, but these are Muggles and they are not as civilised. They are horrid and evil and I think I'll go find your mother now." Lucius told his son in an icy voice, Draco nodded idly at him, too transfixed on the raven-haired boy on the bed.

_'How could someone do this?' _Draco thought whilst watching the potions slowly heal the younger boy's battered body. _'He's only ten years old for Circe's sake, and some of these scars are years old.'_ Draco eyed the largest scar he could see, which ran from his right shoulder to just below his pectorals. _'Muggles truly are heartless, and those Potters sent their child to them! Did they not even care!' _Draco mentally shouted in rage.

Draco turned his head to watch his father walk into the room with Narcissa and Severus walking in after her. Severus scowled at the sight of the child, it served as a horrible reminder to his own childhood with his father; he could barely withhold the shudder threatening to shake his body. _'Just like the Muggle world, there were many type of wizards, evil ones, good one, misunderstood ones. However Magical and Muggle households are different.'_ Severus commented to himself, one of the many things he had thought of since he was 11. _'But no matter how different a child is in the Magical world, their parents will still care for them even if they were a squib. Squibs weren't entitled to become head of the family however they weren't abused. But in the Muggle world, if a child is different and out of the social norm then they were mistreated.'_

"When will he awake, Narcii?" Lucius asked his wife whilst conjuring himself and her a chair, Narcissa chewed her bottom lip in thought before answering her husband.

"He entered a fever around 4 hours ago and all the internal damage has been fixed – so he should wake soon."

"Understood." he answered and placed his elbows on his knees, resting his head upon his steepled fingers.

1 ½ hours had passed and Andras had woken and sat upon his father's knee, plaiting the Potions Master's glossy hair; Remus sat next to his lover and held his hand, growling at the injuries Samael had sustained. Lucius had wrapped one arm around his wife's waist, giving her support and their son was resting his head on the patient bed. This was the scene Samael awakened to, his verdant orbs observing the wizards and witches around him; he knew they were magical because he could literally _feel _their magic crackling and mingling with each-others.

The blonde man from the photo was in the room _'What was his name...Lucius, that was it.'_, he was slightly older but still handsome. Samael assumed the woman next to him was Lucius' wife and the blonde boy with happy silver eyes draped across his bed was their son. He looked to his right without moving his stiff body and spotted a sandy-haired man with a snarl on his lips holding hands with a tall man with shoulder length hair. _'So this is Severus.' _Samael thought and then glanced back to the joined hands. _'Well he never mentioned what gender his lover was.'_ he mused and then he saw the young boy with his father's hair and dad's amber eyes, smiling at Samael from where he was sat upon his father's knee. _'A child conceived by two men? Is that possible here?'_

He closed his emerald eyes to burn the scene into his mind, to remember his first thoughts and images of the Magical world.

"Samael." called Severus carefully; Samael locked his intense gaze with the Potions Master's neutral obsidian one and nodded for him to continue. "Would you like some water." Samael gathered some saliva in his dry mouth and attempted to swallow, internally grimacing as his throat felt like jagged glass was embedded within it and nodded at the black-haired man again.

Severus prodded his son from him, conjured a glass and whispered '_aguamenti_' before handing it to the injured boy, who accepted the glass, cast one assessing look about the room and took a small sip. Rejoicing because with each sip he took, the horrible lump in his throat disappeared.

"So where am I?" Samael asked with a neutral voice. "By the décor I assume it is quite lavish and expensive, a mansion perhaps? But no..." Samael glanced out of the window on his left with a calculating gaze '"The grounds are slightly smaller than I would have expected for a mansion , so I would hazard a guess at a manor. The only people who could afford a manor here – no offence intended, is you Master Malfoy and your family." he smirked at the shocked looks he was receiving. "So I must deduce that this is Malfoy Manor," he concluded with an amused voice, Severus shook his head lightly, laughter shining in his dark eyes.

"But how rude of me to have not introduced myself properly since Lady Malfoy, Severus' lover and their child roused me from the arms of death. I am Samael, formerly known as Harry James Potter," he greeted with a quirk of the eyebrow, daring anyone to answer him.

"You did say you liked the history behind that name," Severus mused, returning to his seat where Andras immediately sat upon his knee again.

"It is quite fitting, I do think," Samael said glancing at his empty glass. On a whim he called "_Aguamenti_" whilst pointing his finger at the glass and was quite pleasantly surprised, yet slightly disappointed when a small trickle of water entered his glass.

"That's a 6th year charm." whispered Draco, staring at Samael in awe; who shifted slightly, unsure about how to deal with praise. Severus saw this and decided to help the poor child out.

"This is my lover Remus Lupin," The Potion Master stated, lifting their joined hands to show the boy on the bed. Samael glanced at the sandy-haired man once more, he wasn't snarling any longer however he could still see two sharp canines protruding from his mouth, he had an attractive ruggedness about him and a canine flair to his features.

"A Werewolf?" he asked and everyone in the room tensed at the new boy's reaction, Remus nodded smelling only curiosity from the dark-haired youth.

"How – interesting," he commented, tilting his head to view the man from another angle. "Hello Remus," he greeted after several minutes observation. "Thank you for getting me from back there."

"It's perfectly fine Samael, those Muggles were horrendous and you deserve better," Remus replied, smiling at the boy whose face was neutral but whose smell was surprised. "This is our son, Andras Snape," he indicated the boy upon who was still braiding Severus' hair.

"Hello Samael!" buzzed the nine-year old, "Your name is really nice, I'm named after a fallen angel too, I'm sure we will be great friends." he bounced excitedly, and Severus had to eventually push him to the floor after several of his hairs were ripped from his head.

"Friends...What a foreign concept," mused Samael aloud, oblivious to the looks the adults passed each-other. "Andras Marquis of Hell, also known as the demon killer. Is your forename fitting?"

Andras smiled a predatory smile. "People often misjudge me," he answered, and several people winced at past wounds they had been victim to.

Samael glanced at the proud face of Severus and the slightly scared face of Remus and snorted. "He is definitely your son, Severus." If it was possible, Severus' proud face soon grew larger.

"Severus dear," Narcissa called. "We're all getting slightly afraid of the smiling." Severus frowned at the woman and she laughed delightedly.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy and this is my wife Narcissa Malfoy nee Black," Lucius stated, attempting to dour his wife's near cackling. He noticed Samael glance shrewdly at Narcissa and contemplate upon something.

"Hello Lucius," he said, "By any chance his your wife related to Sirius Black?" he asked neutrally, though his eyes belied his tone. Cold emerald eyes met shocked silver, and Lucius thought that his wife's survival probably depended on the answer.

But despite those thoughts, Lucius could not help but wrinkle his nose at the name. "He is her cousin, though he was the kind dragon in the family. The Black's were (as their name suggests) a dark family but he was determined to rebel. He was sorted into Gryffindor and became best friends with the Potter bastard, was obsessed with Muggles and eventually went to live with Potter's parents."

"So he was a disappointment then?" Samael asked, his voice was once again neutral, but his eyes once again couldn't hide the vindictiveness he was truly feeling.

"His mother nearly disowned him, but she died in his 5th year – If I recall correctly, I think he threw a party," Lucius answered in a disgusted voice. "Walburga was a lovely woman," he idly added, staring into space.

"Yes, Aunt Walburga was amazing!" declared Narcissa, smiling widely at the small boy in the bed. "Yes, she was brilliant with her curses and potions; her portrait is probably still on Grimauld's wall. How are you dear?" she questioned in a worried voice, fully prepared to spring out of her seat should Samael be in need of something.

"I am fine thank you, it is nice to meet you though Narcissa," Samael said but she waved him away with a motherly smile.

"It's Narcii dear, just Narcii." Samael nodded at the woman, and she settled into her seat with a contented expression.

"Am I right to assume that this fellow here, draped across my bed is your son?" he asked dryly, staring into the embarrassed eyes of the Malfoy heir with mirth-filled one's of his own.

"Yes this is my Dragon." she said fondly, ruffling his gelled hair with a grimace. "Don't gel your hair Draco dear, you have gorgeous hair and you're making it look slimy – it is not becoming," she reprimanded, waving her wand to dispel the gel, to the young boy's displeasure. Samael had to admit, however that the blonde _did_ look much better with his hair, falling to just below his ears in feather-light cascades then it did sleeked back.

"Hello Draco. But I have to say, you look nothing like a ferret," Samael greeted with his first care-free smile, which grew as Draco started to sputter. "Robert and that Weasley boy obviously cannot possess working eyes – maybe they are blinded by their own sight each morning."

Draco laughed at the boy in the bed who was smiling at him, but he didn't miss the pain that flashed in the green eyes and how he would not move out of one position. _'I'll make him better.'_ Draco vowed to himself, determinately.

"So your aunt is my adoptive mother? Where is she then?" he asked, visioning the beautiful witch with kind brown eyes.

"I will speak to Rodolphous tonight and he will bring Bella here in the morning, Samael." Narcissa said kindly, before hardening her voice and chasing everyone from the room to check her patient over once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So chappie 3 is up, what do you all think? Reviews would be nice (hint hint, wink wink ;)

Those who may have previously read this chapter may have noticed that the non-con has gone, this is because I do not believe that I can effectively write what was intended with it. I _was _going to used the non-con to show the vicious circle of child sexual abuse (about how many go on to become sexual abusers themselves) however I do not think that I can do this either accurately or appropriately. So as promised, I have deleted the non con :)

(1) Metalingus by Alter bridge, it is not mine and never will be!


	4. Samael Cygnus Lestrange

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>Samael Cygnus Lestrange<span>

_Broke! Inside**  
><strong>This life, you can never be reborn within**  
><strong>I came this far, erase my scars**  
><strong>Fight! This time**  
><strong>Inside, take a break from the lie you live**  
><strong>I came this far, erase my scars.(1)_

* * *

><p><em><span>13th July 1991<span>_

Rodolphus waved to his brother, grabbed his struggling wife and apparated away from their camp-site and into Malfoy Manor atrium. Bellatrix pulled herself away from her husband's hands and glared at him. "Tell me Rodo, why the _hell _we are here when we were so _close _to finding our LORD!" she screamed at him, Rodo gulped but stood his ground.

"Lucius said that he had some important news for us Bella." he told her carefully (like one would do with a wild animal) "And before you ask." he added, holding a hand up. "I do not know what it is."

Bella huffed at the man in front of her, before walking towards the stairs with a scowl. She knew there was no use escaping back to their camp-site, because Rabastan would just bring her to the Manor instead. But Merlin dammit, if she had to stay here, she was going to have a wash! Coincidentally though, the closest bathroom to her in the entire Manor was adjoined to the Medical Room, so she would have to enter it to actually get to her destination.

_'Stupid Narcii, having her wash-room so far away from any other place in the Manor, what was she thinking'_ thought Bella as she turned yet another corner, in the obscenely large Manor. However when she reached the door of the Medical room she heard the strangest music in her life being played from in. With a furrow of her eyebrows, she surreptitiously opened the door and stared at the sight that greeted her. A half-naked boy sat on the bed, a red orb cupped reverently in his hands.

However the shocking thing (apart from the fact that the boy's pale and extremely malnourished body, which was littered with scars) was the fact that the music was being played from the orb. She nearly wept with the bitterness and pain in the singer's voice and wondered what the poor child was thinking of to have this song playing for him, and to have to boy so enraptured by the words.

A small gasp escaped the boys lips after some lyrics were sung, his relaxed face tensing and transforming into a mask of rage. "Oh Merlin." breathed Bella, once she saw those verdant eyes flashing with anger. She had thought she had lost those the boy those eyes belonged to nearly 10 years ago, she didn't think she would see him ever again. But here they were, filled to the brim with pain and loneliness.

She wasn't aware of her actions, she just edged further into the room, further towards the boy who still hadn't noticed her presence in the room – his beautiful emerald eyes too fixated on the glowing orb. She stretched an arm towards him.

"Little one." she called in a thick voice...

* * *

><p>"Ah Rodo" greeted the suave voice of Lucius Malfoy, firmly shaking the hand of the Lestrange Lord. "It's so good to see you again." he said as if it was Rodo visiting him, not Lucius demanding Rodo to come over immediately; Rodolphus rolled his eyes at his friends behaviour before replying.<p>

"As nice as this all is Luce, why are we here?" he asked his brother-in-law with narrowed eyes, especially once the blonde man started casually glancing over his shoulder as if looking for something, or someone.

"I'm sure Narcii would be better to explain it all." the Malfoy Lord answered, once again looking behind him to search for the person. "Where is your wife, Rodo?" he enquired with a neutral voice but the other man could see the fear in the silver eyes and barely concealed a laugh.

"She is about, however she is quite angry. Fully prepared to rip my head off just for bringing her here, so I can only imagine what she'll be like with you." he stated truthfully, chuckling when Lucius shifted worriedly on his feet.

"Oh is that so?" he said with a nervous laugh, and Rodo had to strain to hear the words muttered under the blonde man's breath. "Why couldn't Narcii be the one to demand her over? Honestly, Bella wouldn't have minded it as much if it was her! But no! I had to do it didn't I?" The dark-haired man coughed to cover the booming laughter threatening to overcome him from his brother-in-laws words. "Where did you say Bella went?" Lucius asked after several minutes had gone by and still the witch hadn't appeared.

"To the wash-room." he answered, instantly intrigued by the sudden paling of the other man's face and shocked expression. "Why?"

"Merlin's Balls." Lucius swore, hurrying towards the stairs, Rodo followed after him, too curious to be left behind "We were going to introduce them once Bella had been informed beforehand." he murmured to himself, wincing as he heard Bella's deafening screams reverberating through the Manor.

"WHO THE HELL DID THIS TO YOU" Lucius breathed a sigh of relief when he could not longer hear his sister-in-law's voice, before tensing as "THOSE BASTARDS! I'LL CRUCIO THE LOT OF THEM! I SWEAR IT!" was roared.

"Who is she talking to?" Rodo questioned, he hadn't heard his wife this angry since...that event, nearly ten years ago. "Is it Narcissa? Is that why she isn't with you?"

Lucius bit out a sharp laugh. "I wish it was." he admitted and Rodo raised an eyebrow. Lucius adored his wife, it wasn't like him to say something so callous. "No it is someone much closer to her heart."

"THEY CAN'T ALWAYS STAY IN THAT GHASTLY HOUSE OF THEIRS!"

"Oh Merlin, your wife is going to get sent to Azkaban before the end of the day." moaned Lucius and Rodo couldn't find it within himself to deny that statement.

"OF COURSE I'LL LET YOU JOIN IN!"

"Scrap that." the blonde amended, finally nearing the Medical Room door, "Make that two cells in Azkaban."

* * *

><p>Samael had awoken to the sound of birds singing happily, and to the bright light of the morning sun shining down onto his bare chest. He waited for his mind to clear, wincing at the bright sun, stinging his eyes. <em>'Did they make me sleep outdoors once more?' <em>he questioned himself, peering around his surroundings, but instead of finding mud, leaves and gravel he found an ornate ceiling depicting golden-smiling cherubs and various intricate floral patterns. _'Malfoy Manor.'_ he murmured in something akin to surprise. _'I thought it must have been an illusion' _he thought, shifting to the edge of the bed, feeling odd that the ache that had accompanied him his whole life was absent. _'I was in a horrible state after-all, I just thought that it was a dream my mind created for a dying boy.' _he attempted to stand but found that his legs were too weak to hold his light weight, so with a resigned sigh he settled back into the deep mattress of the bed.

He watched the white-peacocks strut around the grounds below from the window to his left, a bemused smile on his features as he glanced at them. So haughty and arrogant, just like their owners, because as Samael took his time to remember the previous days events, he knew that the Malfoy's were a family whose arrogance was due to confidence in their abilities. Samael literally felt the room radiate with their power yesterday, as they healed and talked to him.

However with the memories of Malfoy Manor, the memories of the Durselys soon followed, and the small smile on the boys face transformed into a ferocious snarl. _'I'm 10 and that fat bastard still got me!'_ he silently fumed, glaring daggers at the window-pane. _'Another vow broken.' _he thought dejectedly, sadness and anger fuelling his hate at his Muggle relatives.

The boy never noticed the power gathering in his hands until the music started playing, startled, he glanced down at his palms and blinked. A glowing, ruby-red orb sat comfortably in his cupped hands, music wafted from the small sphere, pulsating steadily as if it was a metronome. A small smile flitted across his face as he let the lyrics and beat wash over him.

"_Five years ago, my life was affected by years of hope and learning life lessons. You let me know by leaving me helpless what then was unknown is now unprotected."(1)_

Samael couldn't withhold the gasp which came from him when he heard those lyrics, his eyes flashing dangerously. All the serious abuse started five years prior, not as if the previous abuse was acceptable and normal. No, just meaning that when the small boy was a few weeks from his sixth birthday, which was, coincidentally the first time he performed magic – charming the toy soldiers on the living-room mat so that they performed their own battle for the giggling Dudley. After that first bout of magic, Vernon started using weapons to batter Samael with, and the child's body shivered with the memories of the belt being brought down upon his bare back.

It was also the year that Samael learnt the cruel facts of life, no-one would rescue him. Especially not the parents that left him defenceless in his personal Hell, in the hope that one day their small child would be their saviour. How little they knew, that their hope had been dashed and was never going to brought to life

_'It's their fault.'_ Samael told himself, hugging his arms close to his battered body as the music trailed off to a close and the orb faded out of existence. _'They never should have done what they did, I am perfectly within my rights to hate them and get my revenge.' _He murmured, and he felt an unknown emotions settle in his chest, he knew that it wasn't doubt, because the doubt for his future actions towards his parents had been cast away long ago. So what was this emotion he was feeling?

"Little one?" breathed a disbelieving voice from the doorway, Samael flinched at the sound, quickly casting his emeralds at the woman standing next to the potions cabinet. Inwardly he was berating himself for his lack of vigilance and awareness, though outwardly his face only showed neutral impassiveness. Although it was quite difficult to restrain himself from gaping towards the owner of the voice – Bellatrix Lestrange. His once prospective adoptive-mother, who was gazing at him with sad chocolate eyes.

He of course knew that he would see this woman today, Narcissa had told him only last-night that her sister would be arriving, but by the look on Lady Lestrange's face she was surprised. Had she not known? Samael tilted his head slightly to cast another look over her, she was slightly older than his dream showed her to be (which was to be expected of course), but her beauty was still unimaginable, a prized jewel, polished to perfection.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." he acknowledged, grateful that his vocal chords had been mended and it hardly pained him to speak, but also grateful that the catch in his throat could be blamed on his injured state also. Bellatrix smiled slightly at the greeting, slowly moving towards the bed, brown eyes never leaving the verdant ones before her. "My mother." he said only to see her reaction, but damn! It felt good to say it. The woman's smile grew even larger at the title, reaching a hand out to lovingly stroke one of the small boy's sunken cheeks.

"My little one." she whispered thickly, chocolate eyes suspiciously bright before they hardened into ice-cold chips of fury. "WHO THE HELL DID THIS TO YOU" she demanded, her voice as deadly as her eyes. Samael smiled frigidly at the woman, she was perfect in his opinion, he quietly informed her of his Muggle relatives, however his answer did nothing to assuage the anger burning the woman felt, if her next statement was to be true. "THOSE BASTARDS! I'LL CRUCIO THE LOT OF THEM! I SWEAR IT!"

The small boy on the bed chuckled lightly at the woman, even if he didn't know what exactly a _'crucio.' _was, it seemed extremely painful. Samael gleefully smirked at that. "Severus informed me of a magical ward around the house." he told her to calm her down, the Malfoys were very accepting however he highly doubted they appreciated an irate and highly dangerous woman fuming in their medical room and shouting the Manor down.

However Samael's goal was sadly not achieved, as that fact just fuelled the woman "THEY CAN'T ALWAYS STAY IN THAT GHASTLY HOUSE OF THEIRS!" she screamed out, and Samael had to finally admit to himself that his attempts to calm the Lady Lestrange down, were not working. So instead, he answered her with a light voice.

"I doubt they cannot, mother. However I would like to partake in this little revenge session." Bella stilled, her face frozen until it formed into a slightly creepy smile, and if Samael dared to admit it – unhinged one too.

"OF COURSE I'LL LET YOU JOIN IN!" she declared happily, bouncing slightly on her toes, tapping her fingertips lightly together "After all." she explained, sitting gracefully on the edge of his bed "No Lestrange doesn't not know how to torture pathetic amoebas." Samael found that he liked this woman – a lot.

A sad smile danced across her face as she gently carded a pale-hand through the small boy's ebony locks. "I have waited so long for you." she whispered and Samael never knew how much longing those words could induce from him. "But I have got you now, and I am so sorry I never found you again my little one. You will forgive me won't you though? I – I was so broken without you, I needed to escape and – and I stopped searching. I thought it was fruitless you see? Dumbledore is such a powerful man and – and – I – dammit!" she cursed loudly, after realising she was babbling.

"It is just extremely difficult to put my feelings into words." she told him, and Samael thought he could cry just from the despair and pleading chocolate orbs before him – he hadn't cried for another in his whole life. He found himself nodding along slowly to her words, silently commanding her to continue; Bella smiled at him, relieved she could finally get these words off her chest.

"You just need to understand that I loved you so much, okay?" she asked, unconsciously increasing the pressure of her strokes with her words but Samael didn't want to stop her. If he was honest with himself, he needed to hear this too, to know that his dreams were real and that he wasn't an unloved freak like he had always been told. "I was so happy and grateful that my Lord allowed me to raise my own child, I knew he was pained from Rodo and I's inability to have children because I knew that he care for us. I never expected him to make you his blood-brother, my Lord wasn't impulsive, he carefully planned every detail to a mission so it surprised me, but it somehow just felt...right. And the magic you both displayed." she breathed, her eyes lost in some distant memory.

"It was breathtaking, but then it all went wrong. Dumbledore arrived, it was chaos, I wanted to take you to safety, away from the meddling old fool. You were mine!" she shouted so passionately that she didn't even acknowledge the arrival of two men in the room. The tall dark-haired man firstly glanced neutrally at Samael, then his eyes flickered to his wife and how she interacted with the child on the bed. If he reacted to Samael's injured state he didn't show it, which the boy was grateful for, he had had quite enough of the pitying looks.

"But my – my Lord." she choked out and Samael slowly raised a stick-thin arm to brush away the tears glistening at the edges of her eyes. "He held you so protectively to his chest, I think he wanted to give me time to escape and then he would apparate himself away, but then again I'll never know. Maybe he was panicking, we were the only things he only cared for, maybe he lost all his cunning plans, I honestly don't know. But like I said, I was a wreck afterwards. I had lost my Lord, I had lost you, the papers were hailing you as a hero, saying you had defeated my Lord, it just wasn't true! But I couldn't speak out! If it wasn't for Rodo I would have wasted away. But then I didn't search for you, I didn't even try! And look what has happened to you! Everything has gone wrong!" she shouted and she only just heard Samael's quiet response.

"Mother, mother. I do not blame you." he said simply. "I understand it would have been impossible to find me, Severus explained it all. The location, the wards, your emotional state, everything was against you. The only people I blame for what happened are the Potters and Dumbledore. It was their decision to place me with the Dursleys, they knew of the abuse and yet they never visited me, never rescued me, they thought photos and letters would satisfy the needs of a needy child." he told her simply, before staring intently into her eyes. "So I will _never _blame you for what happened, do you understand?"

The witch nodded and then softly said. "You're so mature my little one. You're too mature for your age."

Samael lifted one shoulder nonchalantly at her statement "C'est la vie, mother, c'est la vie." However the pained sigh that escaped his throat, negated his indifference.

"I will kill them." she growled out and Samael could not withhold the exasperated smile on his face, noticing that the dark-haired man was slowly approaching Bella from behind.

"We have already established this mother, and we have also established the fact that I'm going to assist. Do you have a castration spell in your repertoire?" he asked darkly, ignoring the startled look on Bellatrix's face.

"I do." stated the deep tenor voice which belonged to Rodolphus Lestrange, Bella jumped at the sound of her husband's voice before quickly grabbing his hand in a vice-tight grip.

"They've found our little one." she stated hoarsely and Samael could hardly miss the deep-loving smile Rodolphus gave his wife.

"I have noticed, Bella. How are you doing Harry?" he asked in a thoughtful voice, assessing the boy in front of him, noting the grimace which settled across his features when he heard his name.

"I am better than I was, sir." he answered honestly and respectfully to the man, who nodded in return and smiled slightly. "Although I do ask whether I could be named Samael, I have never been Harry Potter. That is." he paused, looking at the man who would have been his father through his eyelashes. "If you would allow it, sir." he continued, remembering that names were normally given to a child from their parents.

"Samael is a fitting name for the Lestrange heir." Rodolphus accepted the name with a smirk, "Welcome to the family son."

* * *

><p>The Ministry of Magic was a chaotic place in Samael's opinion but his disinterested face hid the curiosity within him, as he watched the witches and wizards hurrying hither and dither in the crowded atrium. What Samael found most interesting was the fact that, no matter how busy the Ministry employees were, they always slowed once they noticed the approaching figure of Lucius Malfoy. The crowds always parted once they saw the blonde coming their way, some even found it necessary to nod respectfully at him, and Samael had to fight down the smirk that was threatening to spread across his face. He had a part to play after all – even if his companions were unaware of it.<p>

Samael cursed the longer legs on the three adults as he continued to lag behind them, he paused to lean heavily onto his hindrance – a beautiful cane. Sleek polished mahogany wood length, topped with a silver raven, wings flared as if in flight; it was a gorgeous cane and Samael would have adored it, if he wasn't in need of it. With those thoughts, his grip tightened on the handle and he quickly limped after the other three, silently snarling at the Dursleys, who had caused Samael to permanently walk with a limp.

"Ah Lucius! And Bella and Rodolphus! You''re back in the country I see." a jovial voice greeted them once they walked into a large office, and the tall blonde smiled at the newcomer. An average sized. middle-aged man with hazel hair, dressed in fairly-expensive, yet worn robes sat behind a desk, cluttered with smiling photos of children "I do hope nothing is wrong with Draco." he worriedly said, attempting to rise from his chair, but Lucius waved him down with a charming smile.

"Thank you for your concern Mr. Brockling, but Draco is perfectly well, however this young man is not" he stated with a frown and a gesture towards Samael. "My brother and sister-in-law here would like to adopt him because he has been raised in deplorable conditions." Mr. Brockling glanced at the Lestranges and then at the small, emaciated, pale boy, silently holding Bellatrix's robes.

"Lucius, you know that I cannot just remove a child from his guardians." he said with a placating smile, wincing at the small protesting whimper the child released.

"Mr. Brockling you know I would not come to you if the situation was not grave. And I will not stand by and let this child continue to live with his relatives!" he quietly yet vehemently said, "I have the medical reports from when we first found him." Lucius added in a controlled voice, handing over several sheets of parchment, which the Ministry worker hesitantly accepted.

"Okay Lucius I will review these but I will need to have a word with the child." Mr. Brockling acquiesced, rising from his chair to lead the adults from the room. However Samael gripped Bellatrix's robes tightly, small sobs echoing from his shaking frame. Lucius lifted an eyebrow at the boy, Rodolphus frowned and Bellatrix looked about ready to cry.

"Can I stay with him?" Bellatrix asked, casting deploring eyes onto the sad pale-green ones of Mr. Brockling.

"I'm sorry Bellatrix, but I'll have to speak to him alone." Samael let out a quiet moan at the words but released his hold on the woman's robes, sniffed then gave the four adults a small watery smile. Mr. Brockling smiled widely at this and led the other people out of the room, missing the wink and smirk Samael sent to his companions.

* * *

><p>"We won't be long Bella, Rodolphus." he told the couple, directed more towards the woman who still looked as if she was about to burst into tears. Mr. Brockling noted with a pleased smile that Rodolphus circled his arms around her waist and murmured words into her ears.<p>

"We understand, Mr. Brockling." Lucius said, sitting upon the leather chairs in the corridor, "Just ensure that you look at the report."

"Okay, Lucius." he answered, hand freezing on the door-handle as he quickly skimmed through the parchment in his hands, face paling with each injury he read. "B-but this is abominable, how could anyone do this!" he questioned the other adults, who sadly had no answer. "Of course I'll get him away from them, but I need the statement from him – bloody red tape." he grumbled darkly.

"Thank you Percival." Lucius said, and the other Minsitry worker nodded stiffly in return. "I trust that we'll have you're utmost secrecy on this?" he questioned and Mr. Brockling nodded once more.

"Of course, once I've signed the papers, only I can access them and others can only access them with your approval." he informed them, opening the door to his office once more, leaving three smug purebloods behind him.

"So young man." Percival said to the small boy who was stood in the exact same place he was only a few minutes prior. "Take a seat and we'll just have a little chat." he told him jovially, sitting behind his desk, angrily noticing that the boy complied quickly despite his injuries, fear radiating from his body

"Would you like some juice?" he asked, frowning as the boy hurriedly shook his head, fingers clenched tightly together. "That's fine." he said, picking his quill from where it was resting near the ink, once again noticing the flinch from the small boy.

"Well let us start then." Percival said happily, dipping the nib into the ink. "My name is Percival Albert Brockling, but my friends just call me Perce. What is your name?" he asked, writing 'Harry' onto the parchment as soon as it was out of the boy's lips.

"Any other names, Harry? After all my mother put an Albert in my name, what about you?" he enquired, the smile never leaving his face.

"It's Harry James P-Potter." he answered, flinching as Percival's smile faltered slightly, however it was quickly replaced with a grin.

"Mothers and the middle names, huh?" Percival joked, whilst seething on the inside. _'_This _is Harry Potter, saviour to the wizarding world? How could they do this to him?' _"Whilst we're talking about mothers Harry, what is your mother called?"

"Lily I think." he answered with an unsure expression. "And I think my dad is called James." Percival let out a deep breath at the answer and Harry glanced fearfully at him through his lashes.

"You have done nothing wrong Harry." Percival assured him gently, watching the boy visibly relax at the words. "But you don't live with your parents do you?" A head shaken was the answer. "Can you tell me who you live with?"

"U - Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley." Harry said, twiddling his thumbs slowly.

"And are they nice?" Percival doubted the boy's hurried affirmation. "They are? So you get nice things for your birthday then?" Percival nearly flinched himself as the boy broke into tears, biting hard on his bottom lip to make no sound.

Perce didn't know what to do, he had hardly any experience with abused children, he mostly had to deal with the paperwork and the occasional adoption of an orphan – nothing this severe. If this child had not been abused, he would have hurriedly pulled him into his arms and whisper assurances, however this child flinched with every move he made and watched him like a hawk. And Perce was quite sure that if he embraced the boy in any way the child would enter a full-blown panic attack, so it came as an angry surprise yet when he heard the small boy stutter out his apologies.

"It is all right Harry." he told the boy in a soothing voice. "You have done nothing wrong, but why did you cry? Did your uncle and aunt do something bad?" he enquired gently, gritting his teeth as Harry quickly shook his head, but he carried on nonetheless. "Because if they did then it isn't your fault. And I won't tell them anything that you have told me, everything you will tell me will be kept a secret from them. So can you tell me again, did your aunt and uncle hurt you?"

"N-no." he whimpered, hugging his chest tightly. Perce was about to sight however he stopped as he heard the quiet 'Yes' fall from Harry's lips and the petrified eyes gazing pleadingly into his. "P-P-Please don't tell them I told you."

"I won't Harry, you have my word." he told the boy with a smile, grateful that the conversation was heading in the correct direction, however wary about the amounts of alcoholic beverages he was going to consume after listening to the boy.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Percival asked the three adults back into his office, and as soon as Bellatrix saw the red-eyed but content Samael, she hurried and embraced him. "If you'll take a seat." he offered, waving a hand to where 3 armchairs were, Bella sat next to her husband, pulling Samael into her lap.<p>

"Harry and I have had a little talk and I've decided that it is in his best interest to live with you – Bella and Rodolphus." Percival told them, smiling warmly as Harry smiled brightly at him. "Harry has also asked to change his name, which doesn't pose a problem as his surname will change anyway."

Bella and Rodolphus nodded at him with their agreement. "He will now be known as Samael Cygnus Lestrange, so if you just sign the papers here, here and here. And write your initials here and here." he instructed, offering a quill and the parchment towards the married couple,

"The Potters cannot challenge this can they?" Rodolphus asked, smiling at his wife's mumbled 'I'd like to see them try.' Percival seemed to hear her too as he chuckled warmly.

"No, I'm not honour-bound to inform them, because technically they gave all rights over to the Dursleys as soon as he was in their _care _for over three years with no personal contact from his parents." he spat out venomously.

"Good." Rodolphus answered firmly. "Because I would have hated getting my robes bloody." Percival smirked at him with cruelty and fondness.

"Blood is hard to get out of the clothes." he agreed, chuckling at Bellatrix's loud laughs and Samael's small whines at being jostled on his mother's lap. "And I sincerely hope you give those disgusting monsters Hell. All five of them." he said darkly, pleased as the three adults agreed vehemently.

"He will be accepted at Hogwarts?" Lucius asked the Ministry worker; arching a slender, blonde eyebrow as he effectively broke the thick, blood-lusted tension in the room.

"Yes, he should receive a letter tomorrow at the latest and his name shall appear on the Lestrange family tree." he informed them genially "However 'Harry Potter' will not be removed from the Potter tree as he is technically still alive."

Bellatrix nodded at the words before gently pushing Samael off her knee in order to stand and offer her hand to Percival. "Thank you Mr. Brockling. We are grateful for all you have done." she said sincerely, smiling as the Ministry worker placed a chaste kiss to her knuckles – ignoring the glare her husband sent her way.

"Please, please, Bella." he said happily. "You're praise will only make an old man like me blush. Besides just consider the life-debt I owed your father fulfilled and despite all that, I'd help any child in need, it's just my way."

"Honourable words, Percival." Lucius said, shaking his hand and exiting the room.

"The House of Lestrange thanks your efforts Percival Brockling." Rodolphus stated coldly, following his brother-in-law out of the doorway.

"Goodbye, young Mr. Lestrange." Percival told the beaming boy who was limping next to his mother.

"Goodbye Perce." he chirped happily, softly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"So what was that all about?" questioned Rodolphus Samael once they had flooed into Malfoy Manor, the boy glanced at the man's confused face and smirked. Rodolphus wasn't the quickest broom on the pitch, but he was kind and according to an adoring Bella, brilliant with curses.<p>

"Well I hardly think Perce would have found a sarcastic child the synonymous of an abused one, Rodo." he drawled. "And I rather thought my act would have brought us much more satisfying results, than my usual self."

"You're quite good at acting then. Charming and powerful, I am very proud of my heir" his father complimented absently, and Samael fingered the wings of the raven cane, refusing to meet Rodolphus' eyes. Luckily Rodolphus hadn't noticed and just continued with his usual half-thought through comments. "I honestly thought Bella was going to tear down the door, if you hadn't winked at her." His only reply was a light chuckle and an indignant slap across the face from his wife. "Hello dear." he greeted Bellatrix.

"I can see you like insulting me when I'm not around." she said, walking past her husband to stand next to Samael.

"You shouldn't have flirted with Perce then." he retorted idly.

"I was not flirting!" she denied, waving her arms for emphasis.

"I find it difficult to believe, Bella." he answered, face expressionless but voice amused.

"Are they always like this?" Samael questioned Lucius who had just appeared in the doorway of the sitting room.

"I'm afraid so." he answered with an exasperated sigh.

"So I've been adopted by two children." he stated, gripping his cane, sidestepping his mother and walking quickly towards the blonde.

"It looks like it." he said, leading the boy away from the squabbling couple. "Perhaps we should have warned you."

"It would have been appreciated." Samael's acerbic tones answered. "Where are we going?" he asked once they had travelled down several corridors.

"To the Library, I think you may want to read up on the wizarding world. Most children attend the Primary school for two years, where they learn the basics to society and to magic, so I thought you would like to have to same knowledge because of the act you will play in public."

_'Who doesn't have an act?' _Samael questioned himself, entering the library with a small smile. "Thank you Lucius." he said. "For everything, the cane, the healing, the adoption." he listed, leaning against the window-pane with a grimace.

"It was no problem, you were my nephew as soon as my Lord named you Bellatrix and Rodolphus' son." he answered smoothly. "How is your leg?" he enquired, noticing the sigh which escaped the boy's lips.

"As well as expected." he said indifferently, "It flared up when I had walked around for too long, but mostly it just twinges occasionally."

"I see. And there is nothing else that can be done?"

"No." he said with a shake of his head. "Narcissa said that because my ankle had been broken too many times and healed incorrectly, that just breaking and re-setting will not fix the problem. And re-growing the bones is out of the question also, because it will only cause me to be incapacitated more severely. I am afraid I am a lost cause on that front." he said with a disinterested voice.

"You're very care-free about the situation." noted the blonde and the boy simply raised an eyebrow.

"Believe me Lucius I am angry, however it is not you I am angry at, it is the Dursleys. However I find no reason to take my fury out on you, and I find no incentive to seek a solution for a problem which is impossible to find. I guess one could say that I have accepted the situation."

"Wise words." Lucius complimented, _'Perhaps too wise'_ "Is that Draco I see?" he asked his small companion, who merely shook his head lightly in amusement, not even glancing in the direction indicated, knowing that the child was indeed in the far corner of the Library.

"If you know it is he, Lucius, why bother asking?" he enquired, limping over to where he himself saw the smaller blonde when he entered. "Farewell Lucius." he called over his shoulder as an afterthought.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So uh...yeah. It was sort of a filler chapter, but you know. *shrugs shoulders*

Sorry it took so long - especially after I told some of you that I had almost finished it! Sorry, maybe a review could help ease your anger ;)

I didn't really like this chapter, it just didn't seem..._right _to me.

_**(1) **_Erase My Scars by Evans Blue – not mine!


	5. The 3 S's

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Three S's<strong>_

_Every superior personality, and every superior performance, has, for the average of mankind, something mysterious.__  
><em>

_Georg Simmel_

* * *

><p>The rhythmic tapping of a cane roused Draco from his musings, and brought his attention to the fact that he had company. Looking up from the text he had been transfixed in; he blinked owlishly at the figure of Samael, glancing at him with an amused expression.<p>

"Good morning Samael." he greeted with impeccable Malfoy manners, placing the tome he was reading from on the small table aside his chair. "How are you faring?" Samael just chuckled at his question and Draco couldn't help but to bristle at the reaction. _'No-one can embarrass a Malfoy'_ he thought; pulling his neutral mask over his features. "What – is so amusing?" he asked, his voice much haughtier than he wished it to be.

He cursed himself as the younger boy clearly wasn't affected by his aloof exterior. _'Don't act superior – this is Harry Potter after all!' _he berated himself. _'You know the one? Brother to the Dark Lord, son to Bellatrix and Rodolphous! The severely battered child you only saw yesterday, with the cold eyes and intelligent answers! He is not going to be intimidated by you.'_

Samael silently cast an appraising look at Draco, as if gauging how to phrase his next words – he probably was actually. Even so, the blonde itched to shift uncomfortably in his seat- but it was not the Malfoy thing to do. "I was just admiring how similar you are to your father Draco, do not be offended." the dark-haired youth responded smoothly, and Draco thought this was as close to an apology he was going to receive from the other boy. _'Although, I should be the one apologising.'_

Raising a shaped eyebrow in enquiry to the other boy's comment, he silently willed him to continue, but the action only caused Samael to shake his head in amusement once more. "Honestly, are you not aware how much you resemble your father?" he questioned, smiling slightly as the older boy's chest inflated with pride with the comment.

"How do I resemble him, Samael?" he asked, easily escaping the awkwardness he had caused from his internal admonishments, as his eager silver eyes met their laughing emerald counterparts.

Samael sighed softly, moving to sit upon the chair opposite Draco's, placing his cane across his knees. "From the amount of time I have spent with both you and your father, I have noticed that your speech, mannerisms, and attitude are practically identical." Samael answered, counting off each response with a tap to a fingertip.

Draco smiled widely at the information, before it morphed into satisfied smirk, as he imagined his father saying how proud he was to him. Whilst doing so, he missed the eye-roll Samael directed at him."You really admire your father don't you Draco?" asked Samael, startling the blonde from his mind, and Draco couldn't identify any emotion but pure curiosity in the other child's voice.

The blonde boy nodded "He is my idol." he admitted, uncertain eyes measuring the raven-haired's reaction; only to find interest in the fascinating emerald eyes.

Samael nodded once – ending the discussion, and the silence that met them was comfortable, Draco noted. Samael just sat upon his chair, eyes half-lidded as he gazed into the distance, and the blonde wondered what had the other so engrossed, as he began reading once more. Draco was unaware what the passage of time was before he was disturbed.

"What are you reading?" asked the dark-haired boy suddenly, startling the blonde from his immersion in the book. Silver eyes darted to his text before they rested on his companion, a faint blush appearing before it was quickly hidden behind his mask. "Glamour charms." he answered, before continuing upon seeing an interested spark once more in the emerald depths. "Whilst you do not look like the Potters." he said, smiling softly when his companion let out a relieved breath. "Your scar is easily identifiable, so I was researching ways to hide it when I stumbled upon glamours. They vary in strength, and many of them do not even affect magical scars, so actually finding a spell which suits our needs has been difficult."

"Is that so?" Samael asked, shifting to the edge of his seat, in what Draco assumed was a position where he could access the tome more easily. "And how is the research going?"

"I have narrowed it down to two spells now. One of them is extremely effective in that covers all scars, however it will only last for a couple of hours. And the other will only cover one scar but it will last the whole day." the blonde child informed the other with an irritated frown.

"The second one sounds like the best." Samael said neutrally, reading through the two spells indicated. Draco's frown deepened at the answer.

"But those scars I saw yesterday, surely you will want them hidden." the blonde said, wincing at his lack of tact.

Samael sighed, passing a hand though his wavy locks. "Draco, I do not see the scars a symbol of weakness at the hands of the Dursleys." the blonde stared at him in incredulity "_Or _as some perverse form of achievement." he drawled; Draco merely, raised an eyebrow in interest. "No, theses scars remind me of the past, and how much the Dursleys and Potters are going to suffer at my hand."

"B-but surely they are constantly reminding you of the abuse!" he exclaimed, freezing once realising exactly what he had just said.

"I hope you are not this indelicate in public." the dark-haired child said with a small laugh, shaking his head as the older boy grimaced apologetically.

"I am not usually." he admitted. "I am sorry Samael, that must have sounded extremely rude. Father says I cannot hold my tongue when around family." he said, staring at his feet as his cheeks tinged light-pink. Samael tilted his head to the side, viewing the other from a different angle.

"You consider me...Family?" he questioned in an emotionless voice; Draco snapped his head up to see a blank mask upon the other's face. He smiled widely at his companion, watching him grip his cane tightly – the only sign of how uncomfortable he was feeling.

"Of course I do Samael." he answered brightly, inwardly frowning at the other child's insecurity. _'I better not say that aloud.'_ he mused, nearly missing Samael's answer.

"I deem that acceptable." Samael stated, turning back to the tome on the desk. "So the spell is cicatrix non reveles?"

"What? Oh...Yes it is." the blonde answered, still musing the boy in front of him.

"I'll ask mother to perform it then, I am not willing to chance the spell by myself just yet."

"Yes, that seems like the best id-." Draco began, but was drowned out by Bellatrix's call.

"Here you are Samael dear." she said exuberantly, kind chocolate eyes directed upon her child. "You left me with your father! And all he does is moan, it really is annoying." she pouted at the two boys, who merely shook their heads at the bewilderment that was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Speak of the Devil and he doth appear." muttered Samael, grunting when a swipe of a manicured hand slapped his head.

"Oh!" Bella gasped, horrified with herself. She quickly grabbed her son's hands, as if they were her lifeline, with apologies falling from her lips. "I'm so sorry!." she said, her tone still horrified. "I never meant to hurt you, you believe me right, Samael?" she questioned.

Draco could only describe Samael's expression as an 'I-need-help-now!' one, the blonde merely arched an eyebrow in return, glancing meaningfully at his aunt's hands, which were being limply held in the smaller boy's.

Samael nodded, although his demeanour still screamed 'desperation' to Draco, and the raven-haired boy squeezed Bellatrix's hands. "It is quite all right mother." he assured her quietly, and her sorrowful chocolate eyes glanced hopefully at him. "I know you would never hurt me intentionally, and I know that you would never use physical harm as a punishment. You are _nothing _like the Dursleys. _Nothing_. Do you understand me?" he said vehemently, finding that he meant every word he said. Astounding himself further by knowing that he _trusted _this women, despite that he had only known since the morning.

"Thank you, Samael." she choked out, softly kissing each knuckle on both of his hands, before finally releasing them from her grasp. "Thank you for believing me."

Emerald eyes peeked sideways in order to retain eye-contact from where she was crouching beside him, to ensure her of his sincerity. "It is what every son should do." he returned; liking that the smile that should always be on her face, return once more.

* * *

><p><em><span>14th July 1991<span>_

"Samael you have to eat more than that!" Bella admonished her child from where she was brushing a hand though his hair. She loved her son's hair, the ruffled mess that he had inherited from James Potter had been lost over the years, by inattentive and sparse grooming. So it was quite long and straight, weighted down by the extra length. However Bella had charmed his hair into a tame yet appealing wavy coiffure which Samael admitted was better than his previous lanky mess.

Samael glanced down at his plate, almost forlornly at his mother's words. He knew what she meant, he had only eaten half a potato, and a couple of bites from the marinated chicken – it really was a measly amount in comparison to the rest of his family's. He felt his anger flare at this.

"Do you not like it?" she questioned him, "Because I can ask the house-elves for something else, it is really no problem." she continued, oblivious to Samael's growing annoyance and her husband's concern.

"It is not that mother." he answered her in a controlled voice. "The food is very delicious, however I simply cannot eat any more of the meal."

Bellatrix frowned at him. "But why not? You are a growing boy, Merlin knows you need the nutrients."

"I am aware of this mother." he bit out in a bitter tone. "However I am physically unable to digest any more of the food. My stomach is too small to ever possibly eat large quantities of food, and I am not used to such rich foods anyway. If I eat any more, the only result will be me being ill over the _nice_ _carpet_." he said, anger obvious in the emphasised words.

Bella scowled, her fists white from where she was clenching the utensils tightly. "I hate those beasts." she growled out, eventually placing her cutlery down on the table, so she was less likely to escape the Manor and attack Muggles with them.

"Likewise." Samael muttered darkly.

"I am itching for a good torture session." Rodolphous said suddenly, causing his wife to sigh wistfully.

"I'll have to speak to Narcii about your stomach." Bella informed her child. "Get you some nutrition potions or something, because you are not suffering any longer now I've got you. And if you're going to turn into a strapping young lad, you're going to need your strength." she said, causing Rodo to roll his eyes skyward.

"Just agree son." Rodolphus whispered consiprationally into Samael's ear. "If you don't she'll just nag you for eternity,"

"I don't nag!" defended Bellatrix, swatting her husband on the arm, whilst sending Samael a reassuring smile. "We're going to make you better, little one."

"After she's done nagging you of course." Rodo added, dodging his wife once again by ducking under the table. Samael lowered his head into his palms with a groan. _'How the Hell are these my parents?'_ he thought. _'And how haven't they killed each other yet?'_

At the sound of a loud crash, the child glanced through his splayed fingers and saw Bella straddling Rodo, with a wand at his throat and a feral grin on her face. _'And that thought is about to be rectified.'_ he thought dryly. Deciding not to intervene in what looked to be _very _painful revenge, if Rodo's agonised groans were to go by. Minutes later the groaning gradually faded into laughter, as the Lord Lestrange flailed upon the carpet clutching his sides, gasping out 'stop the bloody tickling charm, you devilish woman.'

Unfortunately (depending on your point-of-view) Rodo's torture ended soon afterwards, when a flurry of activity caught everyone's attention. The three Lestranges watched as an ordinary-brown coloured owl, flew into the room through an open window, and landed quite precariously in the bowl of dressing sitting upon the table.

Immediately Bella was away from her husband and at Samael's side, quickly prying the envelope from where it was tied to the owl's leg. After reading the name on the envelope, she thrust the parchment into her son's hands with a wide grin.

"My little one is going to Hogwarts!" she declared joyously, hugging her now presumably forgiven husband, and placing a kiss to his cheek. Rodo just accepted his armful of Bella with a small smile and an amused shake of his head.

Absently noting his parents behaviour, Samael read the parchment of the second letter he had ever received in his life.

_Mr. S. Lestrange_

_Dining Room_

_Lestrange Manor_

_Wiltshire_

_'This is it.'_ Samael thought resolutely, carefully cracking the purple wax seal on the back of the envelope and reverently removing the letter from within. _'I have finally been accepted in the Wizarding World, there is no going back.'_ He unfolded the parchment slowly, wanting the moment to be embellished forever in his memory as one of suspense-filled anticipation.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin,First Class, Grand Sorc.., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Lestrange,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_(1)

Samael quickly scanned the second piece of parchment, regarding the required objects for his education and placed it gently next to the letter – he would read it properly later. Glancing away from the parchment, he was unnerved to see exactly how close his parents had moved towards him whilst he was preoccupied with the letter. They sat opposite him at the table once more, grinning madly (Bella) and smiling warmly (Rodo).

"Yes?" he drawled, rapidly covering his shock with the sarcastic wit he was quickly becoming known for. Bella smiled widely, with an unknown glint in her chocolate eyes, causing both Samael and Rodolphus to inch slowly away from her.

"Draco should have received his letter by now." she said aloud, her smile growing wider. "Narcissa hasn't been out in a while, and the Lestranges haven't been seen in England for years. I think this situation just screams for a shopping trip."

Samael was worried by how pale his father became at those words, even more so when Rodo gave Bella a quick kiss and hurriedly exited. Saying that he 'had work to do.' and that 'you'll have to deal with this by yourself son, I'm ever so sorry.'

He glanced back at his mother's positively gleeful smile. Yes, Samael Lestrange was _very_ worried.

* * *

><p>"How... Quaint." remarked Samael to Draco, as the emerald-flames flickered away until all that remained was an empty hearth – the only thing which showed their method of travel. The blonde smirked at his companion, hearing the sarcasm hidden beneath the surface of his words. He glanced at their surroundings, as the both of them followed after their mothers (who had the art of a quick gait yet managing not to look hurried in the process), down to perfection.<p>

"It is the Leaky Cauldron." Draco explained, silver eyes roaming the grubby pub with distaste, whilst emerald compatriots amusedly noted the mistrustful glances they were receiving. "It is the only access to the Diagon Alley – the shopping district." Samael raised an eyebrow at the back of he blonde's head, as they exited the pub and entered a small courtyard.

"Only one shopping district?" queried the raven-haired youth, watching distractedly as Bella tapped a sequence of bricks in the red-brick wall ahead of them, as he thought. Draco looked over his shoulder at his companion and nodded in reply. "What is the population of the UK Wizarding World?"

"I am unsure – 4, maybe 5 million." He answered, walking confidently through the archway, which led onto cobbled street, brim-full of bustling people.

"4 to 5 million wizards and witches and _one _shopping district." Samael stated with disbelief, emeralds eyeing the street ahead of him warily. He gripped his raven-winged cane tighter, resting more weight onto the instrument. "How idiotic." he murmured.

The blonde must have seen something upon his face, as he stepped closer to the other youth and said lowly, so another could not hear. "They part for us Samael, not us them. You have nothing to fear from the masses." Samael just nodded curtly, he didn't feel particularly frightful, but this many wizards in such a confined area didn't exactly evoke the most comforting of emotions for the boy. But the Malfoy heir was correct, the other shoppers did clear the way for the group of 4 – albeit shooting angry, cautious and fearful looks as they did so.

"Remember the 3 S's." instructed the blonde, still using the low voice. "Sneer, smirk and smile – they get you through most days in the eyes of the public, and they'll never know what you're truly thinking this way."

"I am surprised." Samael stated in an equally quiet voice. "That being 'snooty' was not included in your list." The blonde let out a small bout of delighted laughter, causing a wide smirk to spread across the dark-haired boy's face and their mother's to send disapproving yet warm looks at the two, as if to say 'it-is-nice-to-see-you-getting-along-however-we-have-images-to-uphold' The two boys understood the message and just settled upon smirking at everyone, their mother's haughty looks effectively maintaining a safe distance from the rest of the crowd.

_A plump woman outside an apothecary's was shaking her head as they passed, saying "Dragon liver, seven-teen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..._" (2) Samael paid her no notice, intent on getting the shopping trip over as soon as possible. However he couldn't miss the way Draco stiffened upon seeing the woman and the four red-headed boys behind her. Or the way his lip curled in distaste, and how he purposefully lengthened his stride. Samael only heard one word, which was spat from hid blonde companion's lips with loathing. "Weasleys!"

Narcissa rose an elegant eyebrow at her son. "Honestly Draco, I know the reasons why your father and you dislike them, however can we please leave the childish act at home?" The blonde bristled at his mother's reprimand, scowling at her back. Samael was amused by the boy, but his curiosity was peaked.

"What are the reasons for your dislike?" queried the raven-haired youth, emerald eyes sparkled with interest.

"Blood feud." he answered in clipped-tones, Samael just turned to his mother who was listening into the conversation, for the answer. Samael wanted to know everything to know there was about the wizarding world, their customs, their beliefs, their rituals. He hadn't even read a quarter-way through the massive, archaic tome of Wizarding traditions which he had taken from the Manor's Library, but he wasn't going to embarrass himself once he got to Hogwarts by being unaware of everything all the other purebloods knew.

"It is when a two families are at war with one another, because the offending family has murdered or has been the cause of death of a member of the victim's family. The offending family then has to pay compensation for the victim's family."

"And who was the offending family in this case?" Samael hadn't ever heard of a blood-feud occurring in the modern Muggle world. The only times he had come across them, were in the insipid, clichéd, Edwardian dramas, Petunia avidly watched.

"The Weasels of course!" Draco said adamantly, holding the door open for his family as they entered a tall, snow-white building, guarded by a small creature swathed in red and gold, with a gnarled, cruel face, who bowed at them as they passed through the door.

"And what is the cause of the feud?" he asked, not second-glancing the creatures at the door, they were obviously there for a reason. He wasn't tactless enough to question their reasons for being there just because they looked different to him, and get injured in some undignified way.

Draco sighed, turning pained yet angry silver eyes onto him. "Dorian Malfoy – my great-grandfather, married Adalia Avery in 1923. It was arranged marriage, but he was fortuitous enough in the fact that they loved each-other, not everyone has their luck." he paused to check Samael was following, the dark-haired nodded, ominously sensing a 'but' about to enter the explanation. "They were newly-wed, and they were happy, that was until Adalia went shopping in Diagon Alley, whilst Dorian was at work. Dorian came home and she wasn't there, but she told him that she was meeting up with a friend so he paid it no heed, but the hours past and she hadn't come back. He flooed her friend, but Melissa Bulstrode hadn't met up with Adalia, so he checked his ring - "

"Ring?" he asked, walking towards a secluded corner, where the shadows were at their fullest and the presence of the rest of the public was gratefully absent.

"Marital rings have tracking charms on." Bella said with a sad smile, the grim story affecting her badly. "For occasions like this." Samael nodded for Draco to continue.

"Yes that's right." murmured the blonde softly. "So Dorian checked his ring, and traced her back to the Weasley Manor. He apparated there – the rings allow apparation into warded areas because the magic woven into the metal, renders them useless. And Adalia was in the bedroom – Wilfred Weasley's bedroom, naked, bruised and covered in blood. Roses were scattered everywhere, and scent of lilies polluted the air – the smell of death. Yet the main figure was dead – the dagger in her own hands. A disgustingly sick parody of a love-scene. Wilfred Weasley had brutally raped her and she killed herself, unable to live with the shame of her defiled body."

Samael shuddered, he felt as if he had been drenched in ice-cold water. The story struck a chord deep inside of him, something which acknowledged their similarities and saw the raw of his soul."That...is barbaric." he whispered, causing them to glance at him and pale – they knew his history, but they didn't realise how this story would affect him. "There's more though, isn't there?" he questioned, noticing their discomfort. "Something you're not telling me, which truly makes this a tragedy. Well what is it?"

Draco kneaded the back of his pale neck, remembering a memory of his great-grandfather's forlorn face flash across his mind. "There was something none of them knew – Adalia was – well she was -"

"Pregnant." Samael murmured, closing his eyes in realisation. "Of course she was." _'Life just loves fucking us over.'_ "What happened in the end?"

"Dorian had to fulfil his role as a Malfoy and remarried 5 years later, he mourned the loss of his Adalia and their child everyday, but he made sure my grandfather had the attention he needed. He was a good man." Draco replied softly. "The Weasel had to pay back the standard compensation plus extra, which is the reason why the Weasels are so poor now. But Dorian couldn't get the man imprisoned, Wilfred told everyone that Adalia whored herself out to him, and would go with anyone for the right price!" he hissed in righteous anger, silver eyes eerily bright in their secluded corner.

Most of the public believed _him_ because he was a notorious 'light' wizard and Dorian wasn't! Only us 'dark' families know the truth, I mean Dorian had evidence for Circe's sake. But they all dismissed him because the Weasel was a 'good man'"

"I see." replied Samael with cold emerald eyes. "Are the current Weasleys of a similar mind?" he asked, resulting in 3 similar snorts of laughter.

"They think that they are like Saints because they are close to Dumbledore and the Potters." Bella sneered, black tresses bouncing lightly with a flick of her head.

"Well the older children seemed to escape as soon as they could, maybe they have had an argument?" suggested Narcissa sagely. "I mean curse-breaking with the Goblins isn't exactly a notorious 'light' profession, and the other is a dragon-tamer. And everyone knows that, _that _career is only taken by the foolish, aimless or suicidal, and I remember Sev telling me that Charles was a very dedicated young man. Merlin knows what those Weasels put their children through."

"Please tell me you aren't sympathising with them!" cried Draco indignantly, glaring at his mother.

"I said nothing of the sort Dragon. Now let us actually get what we came here for, we've spent too much time lost in the past and must get back to the present." the blonde woman said, walking through the silver doors which led into an impressive marble hall.

The same creatures that were at the doors, were on high-stools, behind a long, sleek desk, weighing gold, studying precious gems through eyeglasses and writing busily upon parchment. As well as the creatures behind the desks, there were others, leading wizards and witches to and from numerous doors which were spread across the massive hall.

Samael's eyes twitched in annoyance as a sharp pain flared from his ankle, momentarily jarring his smooth movements; the jerk had been undetectable to another but it just proved to the boy how much the Dursleys had damaged him. Nevertheless he continued to where his mother and aunt were leading him and his blonde companion – towards a creature who had little work about him.

"I would like to access the Lestrange Vault please Grimclaw." requested Bella politely, she had learnt as a child that showing the proper manners to the Goblins equalled a fair and profitable handling of her vaults. "And also create an account for my son." she added, smiling softly at her child.

Grimclaw smiled widely at her, flashing his pearly-white, pointed teeth as he did so, letting his onyx eyes roam over Lady Lestrange and her company. "Ah. Madam Lestrange, we at Gringotts have grown weary without your company, and I do hope that your endeavour overseas has proved favourable?" he asked in a throaty voice, eyes gleaming at the woman, whose menacing smile told him all he needed for the answer. He nodded at Bella before turning his gaze to the stoic child , next to the frightening woman. "And Mr. Potter. My, you have been busy haven't you?"

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><p><strong>AN:** I have re-written this chapter many a time, and have eventually gone with this version, I'm sorry that it took so long to update.

Onto the actual chapter; well we all know that the Weasleys and the Malfoys hate each other don't we? But there had to be another reason apart from the Weasleys being 'blood-traitors' didn't there?

I don't intend to have so many direct quotations from the books, however I felt I needed them for the introduction to the Wizarding world :)

(1) Pages 42-43 from UK paper-back edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, owned by J. K. Rowling. (Except omit 'Lestrange' and add 'Potter')

(2) Page 56 from UK paper-back edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, owned by J. K. Rowling

Don't forget to review ^.~


	6. First Impressions

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>First Impressions.<span>

_You've got the face of a stranger  
>But you talk to me like I'm your friend<br>But everyone suffers inside  
>To your precious hideout<br>But I try to hide it _

_Get Loose! - Yashin_

* * *

><p>Cold emerald eyes, hardened with mistrust and caution, narrowed upon the smirking creature before him. Samael was not tall for his age, quite the opposite in fact, he was petite, and even through his expensive clothes, one could see how shockingly thin he was. Nevertheless the boy had a presence about him, it made people look in his direction, and currently that heavy presence was directed towards Grimclaw – it was intimidating to say at the least.<p>

"It would do you well to not say such things so loudly." he whispered darkly, resting heavily upon his cane. "Now, pray tell why you associate that name with my own?"

It was a strange sight to behold. A tiny diminutive boy threatening a fierce Goblin, whilst his mother beamed with pride and his blonde companions gazed in awe at him. Grimclaw exhaled loudly from his wrinkled nose, petted down his dark suit and pursed his lips. He was impressed that such a small slip of a boy could pose a danger to himself, but like his mother once said – you shouldn't judge a Galleon by its stamp.

"One never forgets one of their own clients, Mr. _Lestrange_." the creature answered, making sure to answer more quietly and emphasise the surname. "Granted, you were but a babe when the Potters signed a vault in your name, but one never forgets their clients; even if they have been absent for years and have changed their name."

Samael nodded slowly, weighing the sincerity of the creature's words. His emerald eyes never wavered from the onyx ones ahead of him, a smirk rapidly covering his face. "This vault." he began in a devious voice. "Have the Potters been depositing regularly into it?"

Beady eyes positively gleamed with the opportunity to deal with more gold as he nodded enthusiastically to the Lestrange heir. "Yes, 1000 Galleons from the Potter family vault into a separate vault for Mr. Harry Potter every month since his birth."

"Understood." stated the child, face fixed in concentration as he did some mental calculations. "So I have approximately a sum of 132000 Galleons at the moment." A pause for Grimclaw to summon the paperwork to check, and then nod. "Is there a way to transfer the money from Mr. H. Potter's vault into the one my mother is creating for me?"

"Yes." the raspy voiced creature answered eagerly, tapping his claws against the marble desk. "I can transfer them over with your permission, however money from Mr. H. Potter's vault cannot be transferred over into an adults vault."

"How often do the Potters check the contents of the vault?" Samael questioned, a beautiful plan forming in his head.

"They don't. They can only deposit the money, they have no access or permission to view the vault itself, so they have never accounted the actual value."

"That is positively delicious." smirked the child, a maniacal grin on his gaunt face. "I wish to transfer money from Mr. H. Potter's vault into mine then please."

"Certainly Mr. Lestrange, you will just need to sign these forms to set up your new vault." he instructed. Holding a sheaf of parchment towards the boy, who thoroughly read through the contents twice before signing it. "Along with Madam. Lestrange's consent of course." Grimclaw added motioning for Bella to do the same. "And sign these to transfer the money." he told the child, handing over another piece of parchment, which was promptly signed.

"Well now that is sorted, may I withdraw from my vault?" Bella asked with amusement, eyes darting between her son and the Goblin, who were assessing the one another with their eyes alone.

Without dropping his gaze from the boy's in front of him, Grimclaw extended a gnarled hand and drawled out. "Wand please." Bella complied, and from touch alone the Goblin acknowledged that the Bella was indeed the vault-holder and finally glanced away from the amused emeralds. "If you would follow me." he commanded, pulling a part of his desk towards him so that it acted like a small door, and stepped out.

Grimclaw led the family-of-four towards a Goblin standing in front of one of the doors leading away from the magnificent hall. The second Goblin bowed to them all, hand outstretched for the paperwork Grimclaw promptly placed into the grey-tinged appendage.

"Vault 895 and Vault 897, Griphook." instructed Grimclaw to the other Goblin, who curtly nodded at his superior. "Have a _pleasant_ day Madam. Lestrange, Madam. Malfoy, young Lord. Lestrange, and young Lord Malfoy." Grimclaw said, nodding to each of them in turn.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you Grimclaw, may your Gold increase for evermore." Samael said smoothly, a caracharodon smile spreading across his face when he saw the onyx eyes sparkle in delight.

"And you, young Lord. Lestrange. You're a delight for the business." he replied with a tilt of his head, before walking back towards his desk. Griphook held the door open for Samael, as the wizard's companions had already stepped through.

Samael stepped through the door, slightly surprised with the lack of marble in the room. The gloomy shaft of the tunnel was lit with brightly-burning torches, so Samael could see the small train-tracks that stretched across the floor, and into the darkness beyond. The door behind him fell shut with a small 'bang!', but not before the boy saw that another creature had replaced Griphook's previous position, as guard of the door. Samael filed the detail away in his mind, as just another fact about the Wiazarding world.

Samael looked to where his companions were, and saw that Griphook was now inside a cart, akin to ones in the Mining moves that Vernon used to watch when he was bored.

"You might want to hold onto something." suggested Draco to his raven-haired friend, when the other had sat in his seat. "These things have an impressive speed."

Samael nodded once, and tightly held the edge of the metal vehicle in one of his frail hands. Whilst the other held his cane in a similar grip, just as the cart lurched backwards a couple of feet, building the momentum for the journey ahead. And with a loud, release of air, (which hissed ominously akin to a large snake, ready to attack) the cart hurtled forward.

The raven-haired child couldn't make head nor tail of the directions they were making – so lost in the thrill of the journey. The exhilarating feel, of his heart thumping wildly in his chest, the rush of air fiercely attacking his curled hair, and the sheer force of the ride forcing his cheeks to ripple. The flames danced in the darkness that shrouded their cart, the pointed features of Griphook were stretched into bliss, and Samael could vaguely hear the distant roar of a giant beast over the din of his heart.

It was a while later, (for Samael could not recall the exact amount of time that had passed) when the cart suddenly stopped – and only the death-grip Samael had on the vehicle stopped his from landing in Draco's lap.

"Vault 895." was announced, from behind Samael, as Griphhook leapt from his position in the cart onto the platform.

The two slightly shaking Lestranges, stepped out of the cart and onto the platform to their left where an unfazed Griphhok was waiting. Narcissa and Draco didn't follow, as 'there was no point in all of them exiting the vehicle for a handful of coins' according to the blonde woman, and also their vault was quite close. The two Lestranges left their blonde companions alone, and turned expectantly towards the Goblin, who was staring at the vault with hungry eyes.

* * *

><p>"What do you think of Samael then?" Narcissa asked her son with a warm smile as soon as her sister and nephew were out of ear-shot; she herself had quickly became attached to the child. His wit was similar to Sev's (who was her best teasing victim), but his words were smooth and tamed, much like her Lucius'.<p>

She of course had not been oblivious to Samael and Draco's interaction, their gentle taunts, their subtle reassurances and the overall camaraderie that they shared. _'Maybe?'_ she wondered internally, layers of wedding-themed scenarios, unfolding in her mind at the one thought. _'No, I better not think like that, who knows what the future will bring?' _She attempted to clear the trail of thought she had made in her mind, _'Although...' _The suggestion was still there, hidden right in the back, waiting and anticipating to grow with the coming months.

The Lady Malfoy similarly, had not missed the way Samael was towards her sister. How he was always kinder towards her than anyone else, and how his cold, glinting emeralds would soften, ever so slightly upon seeing her, and how he possessed ever-present warmth in his voice whenever speaking to her. And she had not missed Bella's behaviour, since she met the boy 2 days prior. Her smiles were wider and more free, her laughter had returned to her once more, and her chocolate eyes were the vibrant ones Narcissa used to know as a child.

Nor had she ignored the taint on the child's soul, or the darkness in his voice, or the wild and maniacal glee in his eyes, _'oh so similar to Bella's' _when given the opportunity to ponder the prospect of torture. And the power the boy had, enticing, luring, unadulterated darkness, which weaved through the child, striking the surface when angered.

"I – I, like him" Draco answered, silver eyes focused upon his shoes, praying that his mother had not seen the light-blush staining his cheeks. But no, Narcissa Malfoy did not fail to notice a thing at all.

* * *

><p>Bella and Samael avidly watched Griphook place his whole hand against the swirling, patterned stone, Bella because she hadn't been inside of her vault in over 9 years, and she wanted to see exactly how much interest she had gained; Samael watched the Goblin just because he was interested in everything the Magiclal world had to offer him.<p>

Said boy couldn't help but let out a low whistle when the vault door melted away and the inside of his parents' vault was shown to him – it was incredible to behold. Golden coins, heaped into large piles, stretching from the floor to the ceiling covered the expanse of the vault. With the odd goblet, or trinket box placed precariously atop the shimmering piles of coins. Samael could vaguely see an entire wall dedicated to armour and swords behind the fourth heap on his left, and a skeleton just beyond the third heap on his right – a majestic crown, still adorning its pearly skull.

"We've just added the new protections Madam. Lestrange." croaked Griphook, from where he was standing in the entranceway, a maniacal grin upon his face as his eyes fell upon the sight of the vault. Bella glanced at the Goblin with an approving smile, and happily grabbed a handful of the golden coins, smile widening at her pale palms.

"These are Galleons." Bella told her son, motioning to the gold coin from the three she had resting in her palm. "There are 17 Sickles – the silver ones, to a Galleon. And then 29 Knuts – the bronze ones, to a Sickle." she explained, and at Samael's nod of understanding, she dropped them onto the heap closest to her.

"Thank you Griphook." she returned gratefully, eyes dancing with delight, Samael thought that she would probably be bouncing excitedly on her toes if a lady of her standing was allowed to. But instead of succumbing to her urges, she placed three handfuls of coins into a black, silk, purse – which neither Samael nor Griphook saw her retrieve. And then a further three handfuls into a black-leather purse which she handed to her son.

"Think nothing of it Madam. Lestrange. I thoroughly _enjoyed _setting them – I doubt the experimental subjects did though." the Goblin answered, mouth curling into an intimidating smile, which the mother and son just couldn't help but respond to identically.

In the next 10 minutes, the two Malfoys (who were now also laden with purses of gold) along with the Lestranges left Gringotts bank. Each step they took was measured and had a purpose, there wasn't any dawdling, nor was there a hurried pace. The same Goblins opened the outer doors, once again bowing to them, as they became privy to the midday sunlight; which was bright and hot, as it blinded and burnt the wizards and witches below.

"First things first." Narcissa said, as they descended the steps to the bustling street below. "We will need to get you some proper attire. Hogwarts robes, casual robes, formal robes, and some other clothes and the appropriate shoes."

Samael heard his blonde companion groan quietly at his mother's words, and grew disconcerted. _'Surely Narcii and Bella couldn't be too bad could they?' _Samael then thought some more about the two women, who were always dressed impeccably, and who took great pride in their appearance. _'It just means that I'll have extremely high-class clothing.' _he smirked at that thought. _'If only the Dursleys could see me now.'_

"Bella and I, are just going to Madam. McCrory's Shoe Emporium. We do, after all have an investment there." Narcissa informed them, offering them both a smile, before whisking her grinning sister into the throngs of the crowd.

"Let us get this over with as quickly as possible." Draco told the other boy, walking in front of him so that he acted like a barrier for the crowds – Samael forced down the smile threatening to stretch across his face. Eventually the blonde led him towards a shop, where in intricate, gold lettering it stated 'Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.' "Hopefully we'll be finished by the time they get back, I do not really know what Aunt Bella is like when shopping, but if she's anything like mother..." he trailed off, lightly shuddering at the thought as they entered the shop.

The bell overhead tinkled, squat woman, clad in mauve robes appeared from the bowels of the shop; an agitated grimace quickly becoming a large smile on her face as she saw the Malfoy heir. "Ah Mr. Malfoy, I trust that you're well?" she asked, beaming as Draco replied courteously with a small bow. "Are you you here for Hogwarts robes dearies?" her questioning gaze on both the young men in front of her.

"Yes ma'am." answered Draco "You have my measurements." he stated, eyes trailing over to a rack in the corner of the store. Samael followed his gaze and saw a roll of exquisite midnight-blue material. _'And he complains about his mother.'_ he thought fondly, as the other boy wandered over to the material and began stroking it reverently.

"I'm afraid that I've got another boy back here." Madam. Malkin said apologetically, leading him into the back of the store, emerald eyes quickly assessed her before nodding. "It's a really busy time now, what with everyone rushing about for the new year and everything. But I can get you measured up at the moment, and then bring out the robes once I've finished with the other customer, is that ok with you?"

"Madam, that is perfectly fine with me. I understand how difficult this time may be, after all, not everyone can acquire such high-quality clothing from other retailers. You must be tired from all the orders." Samael answered smoothly, pulling the curtain aside to let her through, then pausing himself once he saw the other customer.

Once dark-auburn, now bright-orange hair, (from where it rested atop a short and stocky body), glinted underneath the flickering candles. His freckled nose was raised high in the air – probably at having been told about having to wait; his hazel eyes glared accusingly at the new customer, and met unforgiving emeralds.

"If you would just pop onto the stool, dearie." Madam Malkin instructed, to the low sitting-stool aside the one Robert Potter was on. Samael blinked away the memories of his 'cooking-stool' at the Dursleys, and inclined his head meaningfully towards his cane.

The proprietor flushed with realisation, sent him an apologetic look, then waved her wand; the stool seemed to sink into the floor, until all that could be seen was the worn wood of the seat. Samael stepped upon it, with Madam Malkin's instruction, and slowly felt himself becoming taller. Glancing down, he realised what the woman had done, he had seen a similar movement on Muggle forklifts from the strange documentaries the Dursleys seemed to like watching.

"Thank you ma'am." he said with a small smile, her face was still red from embarrassment when she draped a robe over his head, and began pinning it into place.

"What happened to your leg?" Robert gruffly asked Samael, who stiffened at his voice.

He forcefully restrained himself from doing something he would come to regret, for example attacking him and saying 'You and your parents did.' And instead answered something to do with, being attacked by strangers when he was a small child, it wasn't that far from the truth, and much easier to remember than some extreme sports injury.

"Why weren't your parents looking after ya?" the ginger boy continued; Samael once again had to stop himself from attacking him, and from the look on Madam. Malkin's face, she did so too.

"It was an extremely crowded place. My parents are good at caring for children." the dark-haired child bit out angrily, before turning to stare him in the eyes. "I'm sorry but who are you? Unlike some people I have been taught not to insult strangers, however I am becoming extremely close to breaking that rule." he stated, sneering at the child's gaping face.

"You _don't _know who _I _am?" his incredulous voice rang out, and Samael heard Madam. Malkin's irritated huff.

"Should I?"

"I'm Robert Potter! Son of Lily and James Potter!" he exclaimed, but Samael's face betrayed nothing to his thoughts. "They're Hogwarts Professors!"

"Like Severus Snape?" questioned Samael, scowling at the disgusted look on the other's face.

"Yeah, like the greasy git. But honestly you haven't heard of me? Or my brother?"

"You have a brother?"

"Harry Potter." the Robert said bitterly, causing Samael's eyebrows to rise.

"I'm sorry who?"

The other child was actually staring at him in slack-jawed wonder. "You haven't heard of Harry Potter?" he questioned breathlessly. "Defeater of You-Know-Who at age 1 ½."

"Well that _is _impressive." Samael replied, watching the other child's face become an angry magenta. "So where is he? I would so wish to meet him." he declared false-enthusiasm dripping from his tongue – he found that riling his twin was an entertaining past-time.

"He's...Away." Robert finally said, before turning angry eyes upon him once more. "And even if he wasn't, why would I tell you? You haven't even heard of him! Or me!"

"That is a shame." Samael said, voice full of sadness, internally rolling his eyes, as Robert sniffed and crossed his arms in a huff. "He sounded like such a nice boy, I wonder -"

"Do you play Quidditch?" asked Robert, brown eyes positively gleeful with the subject. "I mean, with your leg, you won't be any good would you?"

Emerald eyes, and the cyan's of Madam Malkin, narrowed on him. "I profess that I have never flown on a broom." Samael answered, determined to turn this conversation back onto the instigator. "However I do plan on rectifying that mistake as soon as I attend Hogwarts, Quidditch does sound jolly-good fun after all; I would probably prefer Seeker over any other position. However I've heard." he stated in a sorrowful tone. "That Hogwarts hasn't seen a great Seeker since Regulus Black, apparently all the hopefuls nowadays cannot even see the Snitch, until they're toppling to the ground, and have broken their arms!" he sneered, avidly watching the ginger's eyes twitch in annoyance.

Samael thought that Madam Malkin was taking quite a lot of time measuring him. _'Maybe she wants to get the most accurate measurements.' _he told himself, regarding the woman's white hair from his position. _'Although she could be enjoying watching Potter being brought down a peg or two.' _he thought with a snigger.

"Well obviously they haven't met me!" Robert said, puffing his chest out.

"Ever considered that they do not want to." drawled Samael, rolling his eyes at the look of confusion on the other's face. "Anyway they wouldn't let a first-year on the team, it says so on the letter."

"I'm a second-year, idiot." retorted the ginger-child in a superior tone, causing Samael to raise his eyebrows.

"Really? Then why are you buying robes with no crest? Surely a _second-year _like you would already be sorted into a House. So why do you think you will be accepted onto a team?"

Obviously the ginger-child understood that his ill-concealed lie had been discovered, as he truthfully replied. "Well, my parents are friends with the Headmaster, he wouldn't deny me, especially if he knows that it will help Gryffindor win."

Samael smirked at the child, shaking his head lightly in mock-exasperation. "So you are not only openly admitting to riding on coat-tails. but also the biasing of the Headmaster towards a House?" he questioned, watching once more as the other child flushed. "How _noble_ of you, I've heard that _nobility _is on the motto for Gryffindor. I can see that you will definitely fit the bill there."

"Gryffindor is the best House at Hogwarts! Much better than the Huffle-Duffers and the Slimy Slytherins!" Samael vaguely noted that Madam Malkin bristled at the comment. _'A Hufflepuff maybe? Or a Slytherin?' _he mused.

"I remember my cousin telling me that _Hufflepuffs _were the most loyal people at Hogwarts, and that Slytherin had won both the House and Quidditch Cup for the past 6 years."

Robert deigned not to answer the dark-haired youth. The only sounds that could be heard were, the occasional mutterings of Madam Malkin as she worked, and the creak of the rolls of fabric turning at the front of the store _'Draco is still looking at them.' _was Samael's amused thought. The quiet couldn't last long apparently.

"Merlin! They're the fittest women I've ever seen!" Robert exclaimed, leaning to his right in hopes of seeing the witches once more through the window. Both Madam Malkin and Samael, shuddered lightly, hoping that the witches in question never met said ginger-child.

The bell tinkled shop's entrance, and Madam Malkin rushed out to the front, sending another apologetic look at Samael. Distantly Samael heard sounds of surprise and happiness from the front of the store, and pondered upon the source. Glancing to where Madam Malkin was previously working, he saw that she had nearly finished Robert's robes. Clearly tailoring (even in the Magical world) was a lengthy process, footsteps were approaching towards the back of the store, but Samael was transfixed with the ragged breathing of the child next to him.

Robert's face was panicked and flushed, mouth twitching at the sides, as if attempting to smile, and his eyes were gazing dreamily at the doorway. Samael looked to the object of the other's fascination, and couldn't but help but smirk at the three women who stood there.

"You never told me you were Bella's son!" admonished Madam Malkin lightly, as she wandered over to where she left her work. Samael raised his eyebrows at the woman, who only shook her head in return.

"Did I not? Well I must apologise. If I was aware that announcing my mother's name would bring you happiness, I would have done so sooner."

"You've got yourself a smooth talker Bella, well done." teased Madam Malkin to the dark-haired women in the corner, who smirked at the other women and then beamed at her son.

"What can I say Clarissa? He has spent too much time with his uncle."

"Ah yes, I saw Lucius why not the other day. He came in for some more work robes, but your Draco is turning into a fine young man, Narcissa. Polite and charming, that's how the girls like them nowadays." Clarissa said with a wink to the two mothers, who smirked in return

"I didn't even know you had a son, Bella." Clarissa said conversationally, waving her wand in an intricate pattern, with what suggested practised ease, for the cloth before her began shaping itself. "The last I saw of you and Rodo was over ten years ago, so where have you been?"

Bella smiled enigmatically at the elder woman, chocolate eyes half-lidded with mystery. "We've been travelling, England held many bad memories for both myself and Rodo, but then we had Samael." she answered smoothly, before quickly continuing

"And whilst we're talking about Samael, how goes his robes? I would have given you his measurements myself, however Sir Nikolic has them and you know how _he _is with giving away customer details." Bella easily answered, knowing that no more questions would be asked about their absence, once a certain tailor was mentioned.

Narcissa turned to her nephew when she saw that her sister had quite competently distracted Clarissa. "Where is Draco, Samael?" she questioned devoid of emotion, blue eyes assessing the small area around her.

"He found a gorgeous material in the front of the store, and has been captivated by it since then." he answered, amusement clear in his eyes. "He may even buy the shop just for that material."

Robert who was watching the interaction, turned suddenly to Samael and grabbed his frail arm. "Who are you?" he demanded.

* * *

><p>Robert Potter regarded his wand with disdain, as he trudged despondently from the store.<em> 'Cottonwood and dragon heartstring 9 ½ inches, springy.' is what Ollivander said happily, as if the wand the had given the <em>Robert Potter!_ was a good one. Well it wasn't! Cottonwood? What sort of wand had Cottonwood in it for Merlin's sake! What is Cottonwood anyway? And dragon heartstring! Not something cool like dragon claw, or dragon teeth, no, it was just regular run-of-the-mill dragon heartstring. Plain 'ol average dragon heartstring, nothing special, nothing __extraordinary, nothing _curious. _And it wasn't even a spectacular dragon, it was a Common Welsh Green – that was just pathetic!'_

Robert scowled at the passers-by, who were determined to question him about his brother. _'If only they knew where he really was.'_ he thought smugly, as he walked into Madam Malkin's. Said witch bustled happily towards him, that was until she got a good look at who she was actually serving, then her movements became rather..._forced._

"Hogwarts, dearie?" she asked her standard question for this time of year, frowning with the endearment she unwittingly gave him.

Robert glared at the woman after seeing her expression, before giving her a terse nod and following her to the back of the store. He stepped upon the stool, gave her a withering look and glanced in the opposite direction, lost in thought.

_'Harry is coming back this year.' _he thought, voice full of venom. _'Mum and Dad seem so excited, so busy preparing his room and food that they've been ignoring me! I mean sure, Harry has spent ten years getting beaten by Muggles whilst I've had the parents, but they didn't even bring me to Diagon, 'casue they were so busy! That's their responsibility, looking after the children, why don't they spend their time with me!'_

"What's taking you so long woman!" snapped Robert to Madam Malkin, after several minutes had passed. "Why can't you enlarge my other robes or something? I don't see why I need to get measured again!"

The tailor inhaled deeply, before risking to answer the child. "The art to making robes, Mr. Potter, is that the magic is woven into the material as it is made. If I just enlarge your other robes, then that magic would be lost and the robe's quality would deteriorate. And I take pride in my work Mr. Potter, it is either speed or quality in this business, and I always go for the latter."

Robert sneered at the woman when she went to answer another customer. _'She can't leave me! I am Robert Potter! _He glared accusingly at the reason for his disturbance, mollified slightly that the boy was injured. _'But how exactly was he injured?' _he thought, and asked the boy exactly that. He was unimpressed with the boy's answer though, there was no amazing fight that took place, just a beating. _'But why weren't his parents caring for him?' _Again he asked, and was shocked with the reply.

_'The boy doesn't know who I am? Wait...That must mean he doesn't know who Harry Potter is either! Then he can be my friend, I'll have another before Harry turns up and steals them!'_

_.-.-.-.-.-._

_'That git! I wouldn't want him as my friend anyway, not if he's now fascinated with my brother. He looked interesting though, with his cane...Wait that means he can't play Quidditch then! Ha, one for me._

_'I think he insulted me – who does he think he is?'_

_'He insulted Gryffindor! Who is he?'_

_'He has a cousin – what is his name?'_

_'Merlin! They're the fittest women I've ever seen! Shit, did I say that out loud?' _A glance to the other boy. _'Yes I did. Merlin why is this woman's shop so busy! Circe! It's those women, they'll talk to me, I am after all – Robert Potter. Wait...what's fatty telling injured? Why are they smiling? Oh Merlin, those women look hot with that expression. Wait...Lucius? I recognise that name. Draco? As in Draco Malfoy! Who are these people? Samael? Is that his name?' _ "Who are you?"

* * *

><p>The conversations stilled at the child's words, Narcissa glared frostily, Bella snarled, and Samael smiled nastily at him, emerald eyes dark and frozen. "Ah, is now the time you express manners Robert Potter? I was wondering how long it would take you to follow the universal modicum of respect and greeting." Samael said, pausing to brush invisible lint from the shop robe. "I had expected something slightly better though."<p>

Brown eyes narrowed in confusion and Samael smirked at him. "What are you talking about? What is your name!"

"Release your hand from my self and I may answer you." was the reply, the ginger-child glared but complied nonetheless. "Savagery, I expected nothing less from a Potter." he murmured lowly enough for just Robert to hear, who flamed red at the words.

"Who are you!"

"I am growing weary from this game, I must profess."

"You said you'd tell me!"

"I said that I _may _tell you – may being the key word in that sentence."

Raged brown eyes met cool emerald ones, chocolate and icy-blue ones glared at the former, whilst cyan ones were fixated upon the cloth before them.

"Samael! Do you think that I can bully father into buying me a oh-" Draco's voice faltered upon seeing the scene before him. Robert pointed a shaking finger at the newcomer, eyes darting between the four of them; Draco quickly sent an apologetic look to his three companions. "Potter." he addressed, after moving to stand beside his mother.

"Mr Potter." Clarissa said, making the stuttering boy focus on her. "Your robes are complete, would you like them in a bag? Yes of course you will. That is 4 Galleons, 13 Sickles and a knut." she announced, one hand outstretched for payment, whilst the other offered the purchase. "Thank you for your patronage, you may leave now." she told him sweetly, directing the child to the door.

"Should I just send the robes over to your Manor?" asked Clarissa upon walking back into the room. Samael glanced at her and offered her a thankful grin.

"I think that is a wise idea, ma'am. Thank you." he said, bowing shallowly at the waist. Offered his arm to his mother – who accepted it with a delighted beam, and followed his blonde companions out of the store.

As soon as they reached a dark alley, Draco pulled them aside, not meeting the stares of his mother and aunt. "Samael, I'm s-sorry that I left you with Potter. I didn't know he was there, Merlin, I really am s-!" The blonde grunted in surprise as he was swatted over the head, he cautiously raised his eyes to meet rage chocolate ones.

"You're sorry! SORRY! He was left with Potter Jr, for Circe's sake, not Dumbledore himself. Now stop insulting the Lestrange name by insinuating that we are threatened by such a low-life. If Samael was angry at you, then you would have been made known. Is that understood Draco?"

The young blonde nodded to his aunt – she growled lightly. "You are a Malfoy, Draco. You articulate your answer, you do not mumble, stutter or nod as an answer. Understood?"

"Yes Aunt Bellatrix. I have understood." he answered, voice neutral as he met Bella's eyes. The dark-haired witch stared into the child's eyes, nodded to herself and beamed, her previous stony expression completely missing from the beautiful face before him.

"Now what was this about you bullying Lucius?" she questioned, eyes dancing with mischief. Narcissa shook her head fondly at her older sister, who was chatting delightedly with her son, even if their faces were blank for the public they were amongst. Samael offered his arm to the blonde woman, who accepted it with a crinkle at the sides of her blue eyes.

"We will need to get you your wand of course; Ollivanders seems the best place to go" Narcissa said to the child on her arm, not turning to look at him, knowing that he would hear her. "Well, he's the best for neutral wands anyway." she added, and her companion practically heard the smirk in her voice – even if he couldn't see it. "Draco got his only a week ago, it's a beautiful one I must admit. Unicorn hair and Hawthorne, 10 inches exactly."

Samael listened intently, his interest piqued. '_Why leave until you were 11 until you get your wand?' _And other such, wand related questions appeared in his mind; he turned to his companion and voiced them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry for the wait, my internet wasn't working .

What did you all think of Robert? I hope I got his personality across correctly, he is sort of what Severus always expected Harry to be like in the canon - very much like Potter & Black.

Thank you for everyone who has responded, but you should all know that I write for reviews :)


	7. To Be Alone

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>To Be Alone.<span>

_I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude._

_ Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

><p><em>'Stupid Ministry regulation laws!'<em> a passionate thought floated through the man's mind, as he paced the carpet in front of the roaring fireplace. _'Just because they're registered as a Dark creature, doesn't mean that I cannot use their fur! But oh no, they're the Ministry, and they can obviously create a a wand from scratch can't they? Of course more than 4 decades of dedicated learning and skill, can just be laid to waste for the bloody Ministry can't they? And it's not as if I can't just not use a core, it goes against everything my papa taught me. Maybe I should start using Nargle claws? Surely they won't have anything against Nargles? Beautiful creatures...But if I do, should they be powdered or crushed? The Nargles seem to be increasing in number these days. How many to each batch ? Why, just go where my magic takes me of course! Silly question, Garrick.'_ the elderly man admonished himself, wandering over to a tall shelf, stacked high with jars.

"Unicorn hair is running low." he murmured to himself, before moving to another stack. _'Common Welsh Green? Such a lovely dragon, I honestly don't know why the child was upset so. Oh, talking about dragons...Ah! Here it is, Hungarian Horntail heartstring, newly shipped in from Romania. Poor Herbert, died at such a young age – I remember his wand, Oak and Fireball heartstring, 11 ½ inches, sturdy, great for curses...'_

He squinted through a dusty jar , seeming pleased with its murky contents, if the nod and grin he gave it was to go by. Glancing up from his search, eyes sparkling, as he heard the tinkling of the bell above the door, to what would be his 14th customer of the day. He grinned slightly, whilst his wild, white hair, bounced erratically as he walked towards his new patrons.

"Young Mr. Malfoy, and Lady Malfoy." greeted the man upon seeing the two blondes in the entrance of his store, frowning at his dusty shelves just like they had a week previously. "And oh my, is that Lady Lestrange? Beautiful wand you have." Worry sprouted in his gut, at seeing them, and he wasted no time to voice his concerns. "There is no problem with your wand I hope."

"No, the wand is a perfect match Mr. Ollivander; superb in everything I have attempted." answered the younger blonde cordially, sparing a small smile for the man, who beamed with the praise. "No we are here for my cousin's wand."

"I had no idea that you had a cousin, young Mr. Malfoy. Where is he?" the wandmaker asked, peering over the small blonde's head, attempting to see the child; his white brows knitting in confusion, when he saw no other boy.

Tap.

A light knock on his dusty wooden floorboards caught his attention, narrowing his aged eyes, he listened closely behind him.

Tap.

There it was again. The lightest of taps – nothing more than a a scuff of a boot. But nonetheless the wizened man heard it. Moving his head, till his chin rested upon his shoulder, he locked his silver orbs upon wild, dark emeralds; which blinked slowly. _'Curious.' _

"Young Lord Lestrange, I presume." he murmured, startling the 3 other people in the room. "Ah, you're going to be an interesting one to find. Come on, over here where I can see you." he commanded lightly, indicating the most worn part of the floor.

The child inclined his head in agreement, before making his way to the indicated spot of the floor. Ollivander smiled lowly to himself when he saw the boy. Average height, bordering on small; inky-black hair, cavernous emerald eyes, and (only for those who were versed in the area to identify) power emanating from every pore. _'A cane? I haven't seen one with one so young since Lucius Malfoy – nasty bludgeor accident that. What happened to this child? He is just so – curious"_

"Which is your wand arm?" he asked, circling the boy, whose eyes tried their best to follow his movements, but ultimately failed - much to the child's displeasure. Ollivander's maniacal grin just came naturally to him then, as he summoned the enchanted tape to his hand. _'His right? Oh – oh that would suit him yes, oh Merlin yes that _is _a good idea.' _The elderly wizard abandoned his tape (which was now measuring the child's head), in order to search his vast stock.

_'Bellatrix, her wand is walnut, nice and unyielding, good for cursing. Shame she couldn't learn much at Hogwarts.' _he frowned at that thought, pulling a long, wooden box from the shelf in front of him, peered inside, then placed it back. _'Defence against the Dark arts indeed.'_ he scoffed. _'Why in my day it was just plain Defence. Discriminating against magic is just plain wrong, and I highly doubt she'll put up with it for much longer.' _his thoughts flickered to the mysterious child at the front of his store. _'Yes, he could sort the world out.'_

_'Oh Holly that suits him!'_ he exclaimed silently, whirling in the completely opposite direction. _'Willow! What was I thinking? But the core, what will the core be? Heartstring? No, that's not him. He's going to make a change, heartstring won't make a change.'_ "Make a change..." he murmured, meandering his way through his storeroom once more._ 'Who else made a change? Flamel? No he had pixie tears in his, too temperamental. Dumbledore? No he had Grindylow hair – unusual but not great. Riddle...Tom Marvolo Riddle...Yes..He's made a change, no-one has yet to see it mind. Pheonix feather though? I only have one...'_

"YES!" he shouted loudly, rushing to the 3rd bottom shelf on his right. "Here it is!" he murmured softly to himself, lightly wiping the thick layer of dust from its top.

Giddily, he returned to his patrons, a wooden box held tightly to his self. Gently lifting the lid, he reverently lifted the long wooden masterpiece from its cushion, and held its handle towards the dark-haired child before him. "Try it." breathed Ollivander. "This is it, I know it. It just has to be."

The child obliged, small hand curling around the wooden shaft, his eyes dancing in delight; whilst silver eyes closed in happiness, as the wand scanned its holder. "Wave it." commanded the white-haired man, steepling his fingers whilst staring intently at the child. Young Lord Lestrange, raised an eyebrow at the shop-owner, but complied nonetheless. The resulting magic was awe-inspiring, the merrily dancing lights, skimming across the shelves were amazing, beautiful – they were a match.

"The wand chooses the wizard young lord Lestrange, but it was interesting that this wand called for you. Curious, oh so curious." Ollivander's voice interrupted, disrupting the child's magic.

Emerald eyes glanced at his, questioning. "I remember every wand I ever sold young Lord Lestrange. But only once have I felt a calling so strong, this wand: 11 inches, Holly, Phoenix feather. It just so happens that the phoenix that gave your wand its core, gave one other, just one. Its brother, oh yes, its brother had an equally strong calling to its Master, like you yours. Its master is the one that gave Harry Potter his scar, Tom Marvolo Riddle. And he did great things." he answered, comparing the child before him to the eleven year-old who soon became the Darkest Wizard that ever lived. "Terrible, yes, but great."

Ollivander smiled to himself, as the child before him fought a smirk from his face. "Now that'll be 7 Galleons" he said happily, returning back into his crazed maze of stock, content in knowing the money shall be on the counter when he returned, and content in knowing another strong magical bond had been formed. _'Oh yes, Young Mr Lestrange shall set the world alight.'_

* * *

><p>17th July 1991<p>

Two hazel eyes watched Albus Dumbledore as he sat in his office, smiling benignly at his fireplace, wrinkled head held upright on his desk by his equally wrinkled palms. The kind-hearted Headmaster, the saviour from the war with Grindelwald, the icon of the Light, the epitome of righteousness. '_But what of his shrivelled, black heart? Who would save them from that?' _

The grand Headmster was waiting for his best-man to return from the job he had given to him – retrieving The-Boy-Who-Lived from his Muggle relatives' house. Ah Hagrid, ever the loyal half-giant towards the man who saved him from Azkaban; willing to act upon any nefarious order sent his way by the elder wizard.

Such a useful tool.

A pawn if you will.

The sound of the office door meeting the stone wall, roused the Headmaster's attention from the flickering flames of the fire. He glanced at the disruption, his smile never leaving his face; gesturing both the intruders towards a seat in his mismatched over-stuffed armchairs. The married couple accepted the offer and sank into the inviting pieces of furniture, both beaming at their former Headmaster and accepting the sherbet lemons passed their way.

"How long until they're here?" questioned James Potter eagerly, squeezing his wife's hand. "I can't wait to take him flying, and for him to meet Robert, I'm sure they'll be the best of friends."

"Oh, I would love that dearly!" Lily agreed whole-heartedly with her husband, turning to smile at him, so she missed the frown that marred, the otherwise jovial Headmaster's face.

"I'm sure that's a wonderful idea James and Lily, however we can't have him too excited can we? He is after all Harry Potter, and he needs to be trained." _'Actually it is more like the poor boy is your pawn Albus, and you won't allow him to have fun'_ "I would hate to see him killed at such a young age."

Lily gasped at the suggestion, quickly clenching her fist, as if it would keep the thought at bay. "He can't!" she denied vehemently, shaking her head to strengthen her thoughts. "He can't die, train him all you want!" _'What happened to you Lily? You used to be such a perceptive child, how did you get this way?'_

"I agree with Lils, Albus." James stated. "Do what you must do best to ensure that Harry doesn't die."_'Pathetic fools.' _"We know placing him with Petunia wouldn't have given him the best of childhoods." he admitted painfully, running his free hand through his unruly locks. "But you said that it would be for the best, and we agree with you. I mean sure, he got slapped around a few times, but my father did the same and there is nothing wrong with me."_'I would care to disagree.'_

Dumbledore's smile intensified (if it was possible), and the married couldn't help but return it full-force. "I agree, James. It is perfectly normal, and happens most regularly in most families, I can take you as an example." was Dumbledore's quick, reassuring reply, as he popped another sherbet lemon into his mouth.

"Exactly!" _'So you slap Robert around too?_' "But Albus, why couldn't _we _get Harry from Petunia's?" questioned Lord Potter with a confused frown, Lily and Albus merely sighed at the man.

"How many times, James?" said Lily with a fond eye-roll at her grinning husband. "We've told you, Harry will get his first view of the Wizarding World from Hagrid. Who we all know practically reveres us and Albus, so Harry will view us positively –"

"But why would he-"

"James! I'm speaking!" the red-headed woman admonished with a glare. "As I was saying, Harry will then see us positively, and when he inevitably asks why we _weren't _there to meet him-" she stressed the word whilst pointedly looking at her husband. "Hagrid will tell him that we are 'working busily for the light, so that we will finally defeat the darkness infecting our lives' and this will once again, reinforce his views for fighting for us." _'And that sounds exactly like Hagrid doesn't it, fools.'_

"Oh yes." mumbled James; an embarrassed flush staining his cheeks, at being belittled by his wife.

"It is quite all right." Albus told the younger wizard kindly. "It is quite a complex notion, I didn't expect that everyone would understand." _'Was that meant to be reassuring?'_ James smiled happily at the other man. _'Apparently it was.'_

The weary hazel eyes watched diligently as the three started a relatively pointless conversation about Robert Potter and his broom-skills. The eyes also noted how Dumbledore's own blue eyes twitched in annoyance at the conversation, how they darkened with every minute passing, and how agitatedly he was crunching on his sherbet lemons.

Thundering footsteps from beyond the door, grabbed all of the room's occupants attention. They all turned their heads towards the door, just in time to see it being roughly slammed open by a large, hairy hand.

"I'm so sorry professor!" cried the voice of Hagrid as he burst into the room; Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the Grounds-keeper – sans Harry Potter. With that single observation, the other three humans sprang to life.

"Where is he Hagrid?" the severe voice of Albus Dumbledore asked, rising from his seat behind his desk to approach the blubbering mess, that was Hagrid.

"Where's Harry?" questioned the hysterical voice of Lily Potter, her face paling as her hands clutched onto the arms of her chair.

Simultaneously James asked. "What are you so sorry for Hagrid, mate?" the half-giant merely shook his head, dabbing at his eyes with a ridiculously large, spotted handkerchief; unable to answer any of the questions sent his way. Fawkes squawked his displeasure at the loud noise, and flew to the rafters above.

Barely concealing the annoyed huff that escaped his lips, Dumbledore enlarged one of the teacups so that it was the correct size for the half-giant's large hand, proceeded to pour the contents of the re-heated teapot into it, added a liberal amount of alcohol, then passed it to the crying man with a kind smile.

"Everything is okay Hagrid." he said warmly, paternally patting the man on his upper-arm. "Just have a drink, calm down and tell us what has bothered you so much." the hairier man gave a watery smile, downed his drink, and rubbed his nosed with his moleskin coat.

"Well I went down 'ta tha' Dursleys like 'ya told me to, but no one was in. So-So- I sorta 'broke'" he air-quoted the word, making the occupants in the room wince with the implication. "into the 'ouse. But 'tha were no pictures of 'Arry at all! I thought I'd gotten the wrong 'ouse, but I looked 'round and I found all 'tha Dursleys things too. I think that they may 'ave gone on 'oliday or sumfin." he mumbled, darting his beetle-black eyes at them all, gouging their reactions. "I'm so sorry, tha' I didn't bring 'Arry back!" he cried out, gripping the teacup which was still in his hand, extremely tightly. James patted him awkwardly on the arm.

"This is most unfortunate." Dumbledore gravely said after a couple of moments of silence. "I had not accounted on Petunia caring enough for Harry to actually take him on holiday." the others nodded their agreement, avidly listening to the words being uttered from their mentor's lips.

"Arabella would have reported to me had Petunia left Harry with her, but she has not, this is most unusual. From Arabella's last report, she told me that she heard Vernon screaming at Harry for his insolence, sometime late Thursday night. So unless Arabella is lying to me, I have no idea what has happened. We will need to contact her."

_'Oh Albus, how far you have fallen.'_

Dumbledore made his way over to the fireplace, and in a dramatic display of flurrying vibrant robes, threw some powder into the flames whilst shouting his destination, and thrusting his head into the hearth. The occupants of the room leant in the direction of the Headmaster, whilst remaining in their original places, intently listening to the the elderly wizard's words.

_'It's sickening how they strain to catch every word that falls from your lips, as if it is their saving grace.'_

"Arabella." they heard the man call in worry, as a bedraggled, elderly female face could be partly seen over the elderly wizard's shoulder. "Whatever happened to you?" he questioned, shifting onto his knees when his crouching position became too much for him to bare.

"I fell down the stairs the other day, the milkman found me and the doctors wouldn't let me out until today. Something about 'caring for the elderly and their health-care'." a scratchy voice grouched lightly, a scowl on her face. "But I was just about to contact you, it seems that the Dursleys have gone on holiday. Normally I would be looking after Harry, but I wasn't in, so our plans may be delayed for a while. I am sorry sir, I never meant be away at such a crucial time."

_'They fall at your feet Albus, and I bet you're loving it.'_

Dumbledore waved the woman's concerns away, although she wasn't able to see the gesture through the flames. "There is nothing to worry about Arabella, do not fret over something that wasn't your fault. But please could you alert me when they return?" The woman must have replied, for Dumbledore smiled at the fireplace and rose slowly from his position on the floor.

"How is there nothing to worry about Albus!" screeched Lily Potter, once she saw that her mentor's attention was away from the fireplace. "Petunia has my child! She's taken him on a holiday! A Holiday! This was _not _meant to happen!"

Dumbledore raised his placating palms towards her, whilst James slowly back from his wife. "Now, now Lily." he admonished, smiling as the fiery woman instantly deflated. _'Tsk.' _"Petunia does not care for Harry, she only took him on holiday for she had no other option – it was a last resort."

"If you're sure Albus." the red-headed woman muttered, biting her lip in concentration.

"I am." the elder answered firmly. "You always say you trust me, prove yourself now."

Lily shook her head in shame, quickly glancing at Dumbledore before looking at her sleek, black shoes. "Of course, I shouldn't have doubted you, or raised my voice at you for that matter. It was very immature of me and I regret it deeply."

The answer seemed to please the older wizard, if his smile was to go by. "It is quite all right my dear, but you have to understand that Petunia does not care for Harry in the slightest."

"I am aware." the red-headed women answered distantly; feeling something clench tightly inside of her chest. She felt – hollow. The notion of Dumbledore's actions towards her child being incorrect, never even crossed her mind. Because if they were, then everything that she had ever done, all the terrible things she had wrought upon her child, would have been for nought. And that thought just left her feeling cold inside; Dumbledore had done what was best for all of them – she was sure of it.

* * *

><p><span>31st July 1991<span>

It was Robert's 11th birthday, an important celebration in the Wizarding world. For it was the day that a wizarding child became able to focus their magic, and thus be able to actually control and practice it. Of course there had been the exceptions to the rule; those able to perform spells at a much earlier age – the most famous being Merlin, and the most infamous being the Dark Lord himself.

However as much as Lily Potter dearly wished to partake in her eldest son's celebration, happily drinking and being wooed by her husband, she couldn't. Not until she found _it._ Ever since it had first arrived nearly ten years previously, it had lain forgotten about; pressed between the pages of a large, tome about the History of Magic. But she needed to find it, ever since her meeting with Dumbledore a fortnight ago, one thought had been niggling away at her.

That Petunia felt something toward her son.

_'But that can't be right, Petunia despises magic and despises me, so rightly she should despise Harry also.'_ Lily attempted to reason with herself, but to no avail. The sound of the loud, thumping music was carried through the house, causing the red-headed woman to sigh wistfully, willing the once-forgotten book to be found.

"Aha!" she cried, upon discovering the ancient book, after a few more minutes of rummaging through her bookshelf. The weathered leather, was rough beneath her palms, but she hurriedly pried the pages apart, and the Muggle envelope fell into her waiting hands. Inevitably, it had aged over the years left unattended to, but nonetheless it was still legible.

_Wednesday 30th December 1981_

_Lily,_

_You had better read this thrice-cursed letter! I had to trap that ruddy bird underneath the sink-tub, just to get it to stay still long enough for me to send this damned thing!_

_Why have you left the boy with us? We don't want him, the chances of him not being a freak are slim-to-none and we want nothing to do with your _kind._ So why the hell is he with us? Aren't there any more of your freak-friends to care for him, if you cannot be bothered? The crap that you're telling us about you giving him to us for his 'protection' is a complete lie and you know it too. You have always been a vicious little bint, but I didn't know that your cruelty extended to your son._

_You already know that Vernon and I hate magic, but yet you have give the boy to us. He lives in a cupboard you know, fed once, changed once, comforted – never. I am neither lying nor exaggerating, the boy will have no love whilst with us. We will use him, barely give him enough to survive and when he performs magic (which he will undoubtedly will, considering how _filthy _his parents are) Vernon will abuse him – that much if obvious to a 3 year old._

_But I'm sure that you feel nothing over this letter do you? But do you know something? For the _

_smallest amount of time, whenever I can forget the fact that the boy will be a freak, I pity the thing. Pity that _you_ are his mother, and the fact the you blatantly do not care for him._

_You have made your bed Lily Potter, and now you will have to lay in it. Whatever this child becomes, whether it be weak and malleable, or cruel and sadistic, know that it was _you_ that made him that way._

_Petunia Dursely._

Lily sighed in relief as she re-read her sister's letter; her fears assuaged. It had been stupid of her to doubt her own convictions, Harry Potter would be the ultimate icon for the Light. He would do anything for his parents, and the Light. After all, Lily Potter had made him that way.

* * *

><p>They had decided that the 1st of August would be Samael's birthday. It was after all, only a minute after his actual one, plus it would be less conspicuous then continuing with the 31st of July – even if it had never been celebrated before.<p>

So with that in mind, Bella had planned a huge, lavish soiree for her son, intending for him to enjoy his first-ever party, and get his toes wet with political manoeuvres. That was the plan – until Severus heard of it.

The Potions Master acted as an unacknowledged and silent interpretor for Samael, he knew what the child would and wouldn't like. Not because they were both abused, but because Samael reminded Severus so much like his younger self – silent, brooding and cunning. He knew that with Samael's ambition, that the child would unequivocally be drawn into large social-gatherings, and would willingly play the part of the pureblood heir. In order to get his revenge, and get the life that he fully deserved.

However, at this moment in time, Samael did not need any of that – Bella's disappointment be damned. So in actuality the day was a quiet affair, with the only people present being those the Lestrange heir had met when he first awoke in Malfoy Manor. The adults were contentedly chatting to one another, whilst amusedly watching Draco and Andras enthusiastically talked about the new season in Quidditch.

Soft music, wafted throughout the Manor's great-hall, as lightly as the the rays of the sun which shone heavenly though the large arch-windows. Severus was sat with his lover on the red-cushioned love-seat, both happily basking from the warmth the Sun provided them with. The window closest to them, overlooked the North-gardens; where the climbing vines intertwined themselves intricately, whilst hybrid species of the fanged-geranium seemed to grow from the window itself, flaunting their luscious hues of reds and purples towards the inhabitants of the room.

Severus' Obsidian orbs flickered from the fauna, when he saw a movement in his peripheral-vision – it was Samael. A sneaking suspicion seemed to grow from within himself, as he regarded the birthday boy. Samael Lestrange was sat in the far corner of the room, seemingly engrossed in the book in his petite hands – if Severus was correct it was Samael's present from Remus.

_'I positively hate those Dursleys.'_ was Severus' thought, before he kissed Remus' soft hair, smiled gently at the werewolf, and stood. Hoping not to find his suspicions confirmed, and that Samael was just in fact enjoying his present so much that he was neglecting everyone else – but Severus was no fool.

"How are you?" questioned the gravelly voice of the Potions Master as he sat aside the child, whose eyes slowly travelled from the page before him to the man. The dark-haired child tilted his head to the side in an indifferent gesture, before he stared blankly ahead.

"Can you not describe the emotion?" queried the man, unwilling to let the child alone, until he answered the question.

"One could say that, yes." Samael finally answered, Severus merely raised an eyebrow for an explanation. "It just feels so – different, being here. I've been lonely most of my life, with anger being my sustenance. But now -" he said, lifting his arms in a gesture of unknowing. "With everyone around me, actually caring about me, what am I to feel?" he questioned the only person he knew who might understand. _'I repeat: I positively hate those Dursleys.' _ "I've known none of these emotions before, and now I am suddenly surrounded by them. It is – overwhelming. I cannot partake in these festivities, even if they are mine."

Samael deemed this an acceptable answer, for he reverted back to reading his book, ignoring the brooding Potion Master next to him.

_...and Godric Gryffindor stole the Goblin Ragnuk the First's sword, and claimed it for his own. However this fact has been forgotten over time, or disregarded as a lie. The sword titled 'Gryffindor's Sword' is in reality Ragnuk the First's, and this historian is under no illusion, that the Goblins won't eventually reclaim what is rightfully theirs._

_Vampires_

_These 'beings' as the Ministry of Magic has labelled them, are highly intelligent and amusing conversationalists (if your humour is dry and macabre that is). Over the thousand years they have been known, many an injustice has happened towards them. _

_One of them (as mentioned above) are them being dubbed 'beings' not their correct name of 'Noseferatu' which angers them to no end._

_Another is their apparent 'aversion' towards garlic, which is a lie in itself, and annoys them as their familiar and territorial lands are being warded away by the herb. But if the masses believe it will 'stop' a Nosferatu, on their neck be it._

_The Legendary 'stake through the heart' what can I say to that? As Vlad Dracul once told me '_'Why would a wooden stick through my un-beating heart 'kill' me? No-no, forget what I said, it's obviously because the same through the beating organ which dictates a human's life wouldn't ultimately result in their grisly suicide. Honestly these 'Humans' have no common sense.''

_Werewolves_

_Yet another magnificent magical race that are continuously discriminated against..._

"I understand Samael." Severus answered softly, and the child returned his attention to the man, just to see his potion-stained hands being clasped together. "No-one expects you to sadden yourself by celebrating. I admit, that even now, the kindness shown to me by all of these people is surreal to myself." Samael glanced at the wizard, whose face was hidden by the curtain of his black hair.

"And in those times, even if they aren't often any longer, I sit by myself and reflect upon my life. It is torturous some times, but for the most it offers me a greater understanding of myself, and I find these gratifying in themselves. I only hope that one day, that you see yourself as part of this dysfunctional family."

With those final words Severus rose from his seat, in order to steal some of the cake off his lover's plate. Oblivious to the assessing tilt of Samael's head, the small smile which settled upon his face, and the verdant eyes, which were quickly drawn towards the blonde-haired child, before they settled themselves upon the text in his hands once more.

_...by the Ministry of Magic. The Werewolves and I both understand the terror towards the race when they are in 'wolf' form, as their wizard 'inside' of them has little control. However there has been rumours of a potion which will allow the Werewolf (when transformed) to retain their human faculties._

_But even if this was so, I highly doubt that the Ministry would allow distribution of the potion, and if they did it would be at obscenely high prices. Which none of the Werewolves would be able to afford, since they are unable to be employed by the prejudiced wizards in our society._

_I have a feeling that the Ministry will disallow my book to be published, however if it survives, and someone is indeed reading this, then I will warn you now. History has taught us nothing, but to learn from our mistakes, and I believe the biggest mistake any of us have made so far, is allowing our prejudices towards these magical races grow so deep. I fear the day, the Uprising will come, for come it will, and all shall burn._

_Caedmon Briscoe_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So...Samael gets his wand, we get some insight to the inner-workings of the 'Light' and the ominous warning from Caemdon Briscoe. Please ignore all the grammar and spelling mistakes! Hogwarts will definitely be in the next chapter! Thanks for all the support, I heart all you reviewers ;) Ta ta!


	8. Something Wicked This Way Comes

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p>Something Wicked This Way Comes...<p>

_To the praying mother and the worried father,_

_Let your children go._

_If they come back, they'll home stronger,_

_And if they don't, you'll know._

_The River – Good Charlotte_

* * *

><p><em>15<em>_th__ August 1991_

Vernon pulled the car into his driveway with a tired sigh. Majorca had been enjoyable while it had lasted, but they had returned to their quiet, normal life in Privet Drive once more. The blazing sun had worn all three of them down, resulting in their horrific sun-burns and sore skin. Shuffling lethargically from the car, Vernon and Dudley hefted their luggage from the boot, whilst Petunia made to unlock the door.

"Tunny!" the fat man protested loudly to his wife, once he saw that she had not yet opened the door. The blonde woman turned swiftly on the spot, glaring daggers at her husband.

"Do not take that tone of voice with me Vernon!" she responded hotly, pushing heavily against the door. "The damned door will not open. Come over here and do something useful like opening the thing!"

Vernon paled at his wife's tone, and hurried to comply with her wishes. Grabbing the handle, he leaned against the door with all his might, and it slowly opened half-way. "What the blazes!" he muttered to himself, huffing as he squeezed himself through the small gap.

He roughly kicked the pile of envelopes, so that they skidded across the hallway carpet. "That freak is annoying us even now." he declared angrily, grunting as Petunia and Dudley roughly pushed passed him. "Well he's in a place which suits him now, the filthy whore."

"Someone's been in the house Vernon!" Petunia's shrill voice, echoed through the house. "The back-door's been kicked in!"

"WHAT!" he thundered, waddling towards his wife, fury burning in his watery-blue eyes.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore had resigned himself to checking through the lesson timetables for the year, they had never changed for as long as he had been teaching at Hogwarts, and he could memorise them all by heart, but it was his duty to double-check things sometimes.<p>

So it was with a relieved breath, when the elderly wizard heard the flare of his floo, and the urgent callings of his name. Hurrying to the hearth, he saw Arabella's pinched features and hurried to bend into the flames.

"Arabella! Have they returned?" he questioned quickly, joy soaring through his body. Over a month the Dursleys had been gone. A month!

"Yes the Durlseys have returned sir, but Harry isn't with them!" she cried out, causing Dumbledore's elated feeling to quickly disappear. "I saw the three of them get out of the car, but Harry never came. So I went round to offer them some milk, because I doubt they had any in the house, and they told me that Harry had gone back to his parents. So of course I hurried back here to tell you, because Lily and James don't have him, do they? What if someone went round disguised as them and stole him! Oh what if-"

"Arabella." Dumbledore sternly said, causing the hysterical woman to quickly stop. "I'm coming through to see them, make way." he warned before activating the fireplace and disappearing in a flash of green flames.

"Oh Dumbledore!" Arabella cried, when the eccentrically dressed wizard stepped from her fireplace. She bustled toward him, and brushed some ash from his robes, whilst blathering all her worries about Harry. Dumbledore pushed her non-to-gently to the side, quickly murmured that he had to 'see the Dursleys' and exited the house, oblivious to the fact that in his bright orange and purple robes, he was anything but normal in Privet Drive.

He loudly rappped upon the white painted door; smiling jovially at the woman in the neighbouring house, whose long, pointed nose was poking through the gap in her burgundy curtains. He vaguely saw her mouth, 'what a nutter,' before his attention was drawn by the door of number 4 opening.

Albus Dumbledore had to hand it to Petunia Durlsey, her shocked expression only lasted for mere seconds before it quickly vanished, replaced by a large smile. He beamed back at her.

"Albert!" she called delightedly, swinging the door wide. "Are you _still_ doing that charity work for the orphans? What is it now? 5 or 10 grand?" she said loudly, nodding silently to herself, once she saw old, Mrs. Hudgeons from across the road glance appreciatively at the newcomer.

"Halfway my dear lady, just reached 7 and a half last night." the wizard replied easily. "I've never been able to stand the horrid conditions these children are faced with every day of their lives," he mourned, smirking as the woman faltered slightly in shutting the door. _'Good.'_

Once the door was firmly closed, Dumbledore quickly rounded upon the petite woman, so that her back was pushed against the wall, head hitting a photo of baby Dudley, whilst the wizard's nose was aligned with the top of her head. "Where is he, Petunia? We agreed that you would keep him." he questioned angrily, noticing the woman before him bristled at the statement.

"I did no such thing!" she screeched at him, smiling nastily when she saw him wince. "You forced that freak onto us, with no consideration to our emotional or economic status! We didn't want the boy, but you wouldn't take him back! He has parents for the love of God, but my selfish, heartless sister didn't give a damn about him!" she roared at the elderly wizard, punctuating every other word with a rough poke to the chest.

"And good riddance to the freak." the blonde hissed through her teeth, her blazing blue eyes pleased as the man's own eyes widened.

"You-you haven't killed him have you?" he croaked, feeling as though ice had suddenly started flowing in his veins. _'He can't be dead, no, I never meant for _that _to happen. He needs to be alive, broken and alive so that he can-'_

"He might as well be." she muttered humourlessly, rubbing her pale face with her equally pale palms. "You know exactly what happened here don't you? Beaten and starved everyday since he first performed magic, and I can hazard a guess why you did this, the freak was meant to be your 'saviour' wasn't he? But you couldn't have him wilful so you sent him to us. He hates all of you, you know." It wasn't a question, and she didn't expect an answer.

_'What? He can't.'_

"He hates you all, my sister, her husband, their child, you. And that was the one thing you did _not _plan for was it? The fact that he would resist. And resist he did, he ran away just before we went on holiday, said he couldn't stand being with us any longer. And like I said before, good riddance to bad rubbish."

The wizard's dull eyes gleamed at the piece of information that had just been ushered from the bitter Muggle's mouth. "He ran away?" he asked breathlessly. _'Still salvageable, I can still save all this.'_

The Muggle woman gave a terse nod, fully aware of the fact that the wizard was still towering over her form. He must have sensed this, as he smiled and stepped away.

"I've just got one question." she called to him when his frail hand was wrapped around the handle of the door. "He was meant to be your 'saviour' why weren't any of you his?" _'What are you speaking of woman?' _"No answer?" she enquired with a smug smile, as if his silence had answered some of her unasked questions. "I didn't think so." she murmured as the white-painted door had closed.

* * *

><p>1st September 1991<p>

The sandy-haired man smiled sadly at the form of his naked lover, sleeping peacefully beside him. Remus gently trailed a calloused index finger along the taller man's collar bones, and lightly pressed a kiss to the lanky, black locks which were splayed across the emerald pillow. The Potions Master groaned appreciatively in his sleep, and unwittingly inched closer to the source of his pleasure.

"Father is going back to Hogwarts today isn't he?" enquired the uncharacteristically subdued voice of Andras, from where he stood in the doorway to his parents' bedroom. Remus turned his head, and smiled at his son, ensuring the blanket was securely covering both his and Severus' manhoods before inviting his child to the bed.

"I'm afraid so, little one," murmured the Werewolf to his child, "But he'll be back in the evenings, and you'll see him every morning if you're up early enough. Your father is under the impression that if he's awake at an obscene hour then his day will last longer."

Andras cocked his head to the side, lips pursed in a questioning expression. "Doesn't it?"

"No, it just makes him extremely grouchy in the mornings. Well, grouchy for most of the day really," Remus informed Andras with a fond smile.

"But you love him for it, right?" asked the child, in the same tone of voice as before.

The sandy-haired wizard ruffled his son's hair. "What sort of question is that?" he asked, mock-offended. "Of course I do."

A rustling of sheets, and a nose pressed into the crook of the Werewolf's neck, inhaling contently, told Remus that his lover had woken. "That is really good to know," murmured Severus groggily, his silky baritone rough with sleep. "I love you too."

Remus smiled largely and pressed back into his lover's warmth, resisting the urge to snuggle and fall asleep once more. "I know you do, love."

"Good," was the reply, along with a chaste kiss to his cheek, which was scattered with stubble.

"Well, I love you both!" was the enthusiastic voice of Andras Snape, happy with the fact that his parents were happy too.

* * *

><p>"I've only just found you, I don't want to let you go again!" declared Bellatrix Lestrange to her son, who stood awkwardly beside her, offering her a small comfort with a pat on the arm. Samael knew that she desperately wanted to pull him into a hug, but she knew that the child would probably have a panic attack; they had fortunately avoided any episodes with their restraint, but Severus said that such an attack would be normal, and he was actually waiting for it.<p>

Nevertheless, Samael appreciated the thoughtfulness and self-control which she was showing, and he flashed her a small smile. "I know Mother, but we shall see each other in a couple of months. And I want to learn everything there is to know about magic, to benefit myself, if not my brother. So do not fret so, I will come back, Draco will surely see to it," he told the woman, casting an amused glance to the blonde family, who stood a respectful distance away from the Lestranges, yet close enough to not be parted in the gathering throngs of the school crowd.

"I know all of this Samael, but I cannot bear to be parted from you once more," she murmured softly, raking her fingers through his dark hair, before letting out a small sigh. "But I love you, so I will abide by your wishes. Just hurry back," she whispered hoarsely.

"I will mother," promised Samael in an equally quiet voice. He was startled by the appearance of his father's hand in his vicinity.

"I am of the same opinion as your mother," Rodolphus stated neutrally. To any onlooker it was merely a Pureblood farewell, to those who knew the man it was acceptance. A smaller hand gripped the larger one as tightly as it could, and shook it just as firmly.

"Now make sure you take those nutrient potions Narcii sent you," Bella said, smoothing down the hair she had ruffled earlier. "She said that even if you cannot eat large quantities of food in one setting, just ensure that you have plenty of oils and nuts throughout the day."

Samael amusedly shook his head, catching Rodolphus' rolling eyes. "I will Mother. I will have extra butter on my toast, and a constant supply of pistachios from the House Elves. Does that satisfy you?"

"For now," she acquiesced, a frown marring her face. The shrill whistle of the ruby-red train alerted the parents to let their children board the train. "Goodbye my little one," Bella murmured, before disapparating from the spot, leaving Rodolphus to give one last parting shake of the hand before following his wife.

Samael glanced to where his parents once were, then made his way towards his (now also parentless) blonde companion. "Would you like me to help you with that?" Draco questioned carefully, glancing meaningfully to the large trunk beside Samael.

"I would not decline an advantageous offer Draco, thank you," the Lestrange heir answered, whilst releasing his hold on the luggage.

"You could have just said 'yes'" Draco replied with a small smile, placing his companion's trunk aside his own on the shelf.

"Ah, but I find being both verbose and loquacious not only broadens my repertoire in many a subject, but also slowly tortures those listening," the dark-haired child deadpanned, sparkling emerald eyes showing his amusement. "If you shall excuse me, I am in dire need to wash my hands," Samael said apologetically, limping through the compacted corridor, before Draco could issue any protestations.

* * *

><p>Silver eyes flickered to the door, as once again, another figure travelled through the gangway; the only sign of his agitation and worry was his left knee jerking lightly under his palm. <em>'Where is he? It's been 35 minutes already, surely it doesn't take that long for the wash-room?'<em>

"Is something the matter Drakie?" simpered Pansy Parkinson sweetly, placing her hand on the crook of the Malfoy heir's elbow, which was quickly shaken off with a glare. _'My name is Draco, Dray-co. Not that hard, not Drake, Drakie or Dray, honestly.'_

"No, nothing is wrong, Parkinson," he answered absently, darting his eyes once again to the door, before narrowing on the snorting figure of Blaise Zabini. "However Zabini seems to be in trouble, why don't you assist him in whatever he finds so amusing," the blonde hissed out, silver eyes as cold as glaciers, and just as effective, as the other child quickly glanced away.

_'Good,'_ Draco huffed haughtily to himself, before turning away from the rest of his comrades.

Silence reigned in that compartment, no-one spoke, in fear of raging the sleeping dragon what was Draco Malfoy. They contented themselves with watching the rolling hills flash by outside the window, and casting wary looks upon the blonde.

A rattling at the door, caused them all to tense and reach for the wands. Crabbe and Goyle shifted in their seats, intending to be shields to their leader, whilst Nott, Parkinson and Zabini moved to the guard his sides.

"Drake!" exclaimed an all-too-familiar voice. "Honestly the queue for the loo was diabolical, one would have thought everyone had suddenly ingested a laxative! And then I got lost, you didn't make it easy to find you, y'know?"

"S-Samael?" Draco questioned slowly, _'Oh Merlin, please tell me Andras didn't get hold of Sev's polyjuice.'_

"Who else would it be Drake?" the voice declared indignantly. "Pull off your guards, won't you?" The blonde complied with the other boy's wishes, waving for the other five to stand down, revealing the form of his estranged companion.

_'What in the name of Merlin is happening here? Did I fall asleep, and this is all a terrifying dream?'_

"Drakie?" called the sickening voice of the Parkinson girl, who was now situated on his right-hand side. "Who is this _boy_?" she sneered, nose tilting into the air, whilst casting a dismissive glance over Samael's body.

If Samael noticed, he paid no attention; instead he bounded forward, grasped Pansy's hand in his free one and shook it erratically. "Hi! I'm Samael, but everyone else calls me Sammy! Isn't that right Drake?" the dark-haired child questioned, the happy façade slipping a mere fraction of a second to send the blonde child a cold glance. _'Oh Merlin, it is him. What is he playing at, oh shit! He wants an answer!'_

"Yeah, that's right, this is _Sammy_," he agreed, voice strangled whilst pronouncing the other's name, but it looked as if no-one had noticed.

"See! Drake knows me, so stop sending me those strange looks," he declared. Then pulled his hand from the limp grasp of Parkinson, and (Draco is sure that only he had noticed) wiped said palm surreptitiously against his slacks. "Oh and move over!" Samael said loudly, pushing the only girl aside, so that he could sit beside his blonde companion.

"Like I said to this girl," Samael announced, indicating Parkinson by flicking his thumb in her direction. "My name is Sammy. Drake has told me everything about you though. That girl there," once again, pointing to the bristling Parkinson, "is Pansy Parkinson, only daughter to Lord Parkinson, and is subsequently rather obnoxious and spoilt." _'Oh dear Merlin'_ Draco sighed, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands.

"There is also Blaise Zabini, intelligent and has international connections. Whilst speaking of connections, there is also Theodore Nott, he is also loyal to the 'Cause'. But if we're speaking of loyalty, then it has to be won by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, they practically knocked the rest of the competition out of the park!" Samael explained, ignorant to the sneers sent his way from Nott and Parkison by using a Muggle expression.

"You," Zabini stated, fixing his dark eyes onto Samael's own, "are a strange one 'Sammy', and I'm going to figure out exactly what you're hiding."

"Ah! A conspiracy obsessive!" the dark-haired child cried out, "Why did you not tell me, Drake?"

"I deeply regret my actions S-Sammy, I should have informed you of Zabini's theories of government plotting, instead of you discovering it by yourself."

"It's all right Drake. All forgiven," Samael answered, ignoring the wary glance, two blank stares, and three glares now directed at him.

* * *

><p><em>'Parkinson is pathetic.'<em> Samael noted to himself, internally grimacing, as he had now began humming at an indecently loud volume for the sake of keeping up appearances. _'Nelly the Elephant, packed her trunk and said goodbye to the ci- (1) NO! As I was thinking, Parkinson is pathetic, Nott is somewhere in the middle, quick to judge but willing to listen to others. Zabini has potential, Crabbe and Goyle, well – they're good at their job, let's just leave it at that.'_

"Hello, has anyone seen a Toad, some boy has lost one," a feminine voice from the doorway asked, Samael whipped his head to the side, needing to look at the interruption.

"No we haven't, so get out." Samael heard Parkinson drawl, but he had decided long ago that she was just an annoying bug, and had deemed most of her actions and all of her attitude unsavoury.

_'That girl had an intriguing aura about her, like a dilute version of my own. Bitten nails suggests nervousness. Frazzled hair, so she can't afford any products, yet she can obviously tame it to some degree – middle-class then. Brown eyes,__ boring__, but, yes that's it, they're hopeful. Hogwarts is a fresh start for her. Muggleborn. Such an interesting aura.'_

"Filthy little Mudblood," Draco spat out, sneering at where the girl was once standing, so he did not see the icy glare sent his way from Samael. "Polluting our air, we all know they're a waste of space, but Dumbledore and his Muggle loving friends just let them into our world without a thought. It's disgusting." The others made sounds of agreement, causing the blonde to smile widely and to turn to Samael as if it say 'look how important I am.'

"What about you Sammy? Some families are definitely better than others, aren't they?" he said in a tone that suggested no argument. Samael found himself quickly becoming disgusted and angered at the young Malfoy. _'The Malfoys bow to no-one Draco – no-one but myself and my brother. How did you not see the potential in her? Her magic, did you not feel it? Simmering below the surface, just waiting to strike, oh it was beautiful, how could you not-'_

"Sorry, did you say something Drake?" was what Samael innocently voiced, humming a jaunty tune under his breath whilst tapping the beat on the back of the raven-winged cane. "I was in my own little world, oh, but look at how dark it has gotten, let's get out robes on quickly," enthused the raven-haired child, before blinking repeatedly at his surroundings. "Why did you not tell me to put mine on when you were yours?" he murmured quietly, when he saw that the others were already in their uniforms.

"Listen _Sammy,_" Zabin started snootily, "Some of us are just more important than others, and we are not the type to _help_ others. You should have noticed yourself that we had our robes on, Draco did not have to tell you. He is not your slave, and it is impertinent of you to believe he is. You're probably just some filthy mudblood that followed him onto the train aren't you, well why don't you follow your fellow mudblood and get lost."

_'I take back what I previously thought, this boy has no potential whatsoever. Oh, Draco looks as if he has swallowed a lemon, I wonder why that is? Did he just remember where exactly he was in the food-chain?'_

The raven-haired child did not voice his thoughts however, in fact he said nothing at all. He merely placed his robes on, kept his head downcast, and assessed the other occupants of the compartment through his eyelashes. Watched every sneer that passed Parkinson and Nott's face, every time he sniffled, filed away every triumphant smirk which spread across Zabini's face, with each submissive gesture, and silently laughed each time Draco's face went another shade paler.

He was even silent, when Draco reluctantly abandoned him to travel with Zabini, Nott and Parkinson in the boats, was silent, when the girl he saw earlier _'Granger, her name is.' _offered him help into the boat, was silent when a 'mysterious' wave toppled over the other children's boats, leaving them terrified, freezing cold, and soaking wet. And when they entered the Great Hall, his sounds of amazement shrivelled and died upon his tongue, when he caught sight of his Goal.

Dumbledore.

Lily Potter.

James Potter.

Sirius Black.

Only then did a sound escape him, a growl too low for anyone else to hear, and only then did any expression appear on his face, of anger, hurt, betrayal – revenge. And only then did his priorities settle, and only then did his hunger become known, roaring from the cavernous depths of his soul, baying for their blood.

The sound of the ethereal school choir, eerie from the beauty of the evening, could only just be heard over the roar of the thunder from the turbulent storm outside. But Samael Lestrange heard it nonetheless. _'Something wicked this way comes indeed.'_

* * *

><p>As the returning Slytherins quietly seated themselves at their house table, (such a contrast to the loud bustling of the other houses) a pair of onyx eyes assessed them diligently for several reasons. One of them being because it was his duty to care for his 'snakes', another being that ever since Black and the Potters joined the staff, the Slytherin house had been discriminated against even more severely, and another reason is that it was to keep his mind at rest.<p>

Kept his mind at rest so that he wasn't thinking about how warm Remus' arms are, or how heart-warming Andras' smile was in the morning. He couldn't think about them whilst he was at Hogwarts – no-one could know about his two most precious people until next year, he just wouldn't let their safety be compromised by his careless mistake.

Merlin knew that Dumbledore had little morals about unceremoniously entering people's minds. In fact the only thing that stopped him from pseudo-raping every one of the children's mind is that he could potentially permanently drive one insane – and the hassle he would receive from the parents would be torture.

But because of the coot's little scruples, it meant Severus had made it his duty to ensure that the old fool was not aware of the fact that Hogwarts' Potion Master could perform Occlumency – not unless he wanted the elder wizard's suspicion aroused. It had been difficult when he had first applied for the job, having to hide his true allegiances whilst also having to produce a fake memory for Dumbledore – it had almost become habitual nowadays.

However, it was crucial that his 'shields' never wavered, especially since he now had one more secret to keep, one more lie that could never be revealed at the present time. In fact there would most likely be a time when he would have to attempt to teach his 'Snakes' the art of Occlumency, more so this year since the Death Eater's children would be attending.

"It looks as if the storm has washed all the first-years," remarked Quirrinus, alerting Severus from his reverie. He spared a glance at the stuttering professor, he was quite an intelligent wizard, and the Potions Master had often had a conversation with him when he was the Muggle Studies Professor. Which (in turn) caused Severus to become quite disheartened to learn that he had retired, in order for a Sabbatical in Albania, but something just wasn't quite – right, with the new Quirrinus.

"They all look like drowned rats, you would have thought they would use the carriages on nights like this, but _no,_ lets drown the students before we teach them," the professor sneered, _'Where did that come from? That doesn't sound like you. What happened to you in Albania?'_

"Quite," Severus replied warily, quickly seeking out Draco and Samael. _'That's strange. The only ones dry are Samael and that girl he is standing near, he doesn't know a drying charm, so – no let us ignore that, why are him and Draco not near one another? Oh, and he has just spotted his prey – good.'_

Bella objected to letting her child attend Hogwarts when she learnt who exactly taught there, but Severus wouldn't allow it. For one, at Hogwarts at least Severus could keep an eye on him, and for another it would strengthen the young child's resolve – and it looks as if he was correct, if the feral smile which spread across the Lestrange heir's face was to go by.

"B-But where is the P-P-Potter boy?" questioned Quirrinus, and to Severus, it sounded as if the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was amused. "One w-would have thought, that h-he would attend to get an education, after all he d-did defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Oh, he has gone to receive further teaching, with his own personal tutor," boasted Lily Potter to Quirrel. "Albus, James and I discussed it, and decided that it would be in Harry's best interest for him to get a separate education to Robert." _'I bet he is, bitch.'_

"Is t-that so?" enquired the turban-clad man, "W-well I d-do hope that he h-has fun. Oh, I d-do so love the s-sorting!" he declared, leaning forward in his seat in order to watch Minerva place the dusty hat upon the first girl's head, just to shout 'HUFFLEPUFF!' a second after.

* * *

><p><em>'Ah, Draco will not meet my gaze, is he ashamed or is he scared? Either way, it is amusing to watch,'<em> Samael thought, as once again the blonde child averted his eyes, whenever Samael looked his way.

"You're awfully quiet," Granger stated from beside him; the raven-haired child merely raised a sculpted eyebrow at her. "Most people our age wouldn't like it of course, but I quite like the silence. Saying that, I have just realised how hypocritical that was, as I have just broken the silence haven't I?" she chuckled lowly. "The ceiling is bewitched did you know? It is quite awe-inspiring, the sheer amount of power that must have went into creating such an amazing piece of spellwork. Of course not many people would know, since they cannot be bothered to open their copy of-"

"Hogwarts: A History," finished Samael, lip quirking into a half-smile at her shocked look. "I honestly do not understand why others are not willing to broaden their intellect by opening a book, but what am I to say on the matters of the average youth's mind," he answered, with barely concealed disdain.

"You do not consider yourself a youth?" queried Granger amusedly, whispering as the stern witch from before had began speaking once more.

"Au contraire. I do not consider myself the _average _youth, I am much more – _fascinating,_" refuted the Lestrange heir, before flashing a carcharodon smile.

"Yes." she murmured faintly. "Well much unlike those you were sharing a compartment with, you seem much to be more nicer. Have you noticed that, that blonde boy keeps staring at you?"

"Ah yes I have noticed, he has done something terribly amiss of him, and I believe he is now regretting his actions," Samael replied quietly, noticing that Granger shuddered at his words. _'Was I that frightening?' _ "And me being kind? Well – it all depends on who you ask, but alas, I do believe that you are about to be called. It has been a pleasure speaking to you. Adieu," Samael said to the startled witch, whose name had just been spoken by the rough Scottish brogue of Professor McGonagall.

_'She is an interesting one, there is just – something, about her, that I cannot quite name. A Gryffindor? I was sure she was a Ravenclaw. Ah well, I have the feeling that she will not quite fit in __well with the Lions. Greengrass, quite an influential family, but they haven't got many connections, and they were shamed after the first war. She seems to dote on Zabini, and Zabini dotes upon Draco, and if Draco values his life – well.'_ The thought was left unfinished, as he allowed a smirk to settle upon his face.

"Lestrange, Samael," called the Deputy Headmistress, and the child's smirk could only grow larger as he passed the stunned trio of Draco's acquaintances. _'Oh, it must be hard for them to accept that they insulted the son to the second richest family in Britain.'_

The hat was lowered upon his scalp and an alien presence was immediately made known to him.

"You are an interesting find," Samael heard the hat whisper.

_'If anything you learn from being atop my hair is repeated to anyone, in any shape or form, I swear I will burn you to ashes,'_ Samael threatened venomously, fully aware of the stares he was receiving from the students around him. _'They act as if they have never seen a cane before, the imbeciles.'_

"Oh I like you," chuckled the hat. "And I shall not repeat anything I learn, it is a contract I entered nearly a thousand years ago, I will not break it now. But where shall I put you? You're eager to learn, loyal to a select few, willing to brave situations no-one else would dare, but yet your main allegiance is to yourself."

_'Why thank you,' _the child drawled, and the hat only chuckled once more.

"It is time that house learnt what it was truly for, Mr. Lestrange, and I believe you to be the one to 'shake it up' Plus it is only fitting that this house is yours, after all you are the second heir to – SLYTHERIN!"

The polite applause from the Slytherin table signalled the acceptance of their newest member. Samael offered one last smirk to the hall and slunk away from the dais, to settle beside Goyle. Neither Goyle nor Crabbe attempted to speak to him (not that Samael actually expected them to), and the Greengrass girl was chatting to another girl named Bulstrode. So he sat in silence, clapping along with the rest of his house when the smattering of applause announced another arrival to Slytherin.

_'Here comes Draco.' _A flash of blonde hair, was all to be seen before the Malfoy heir was gracefully sat beside him. "Samael," Draco began, the nervous break of his voice, betraying his neutral mask. "Will you listen to me Samael? I shouldn't have just left you like that, you had to walk with the mudblood and I honestly feel really sorry for that. Samael! Will you listen? I never apologise to anyone but my parents and Sev, please Samael."

_'Ah Draco, you have much to learn, oh look here is Nott.'_

"Listen Sammy," Nott's voice broke in, Samael pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at the child, silently willing the other to continue. "I shouldn't have take that tone with you, had I known who you were I would never have done such a thing." _'Ah, you sound too stiff Nott, I do not believe you.'_

"Sammy!" announced Parkinson, upon sidling next to Nott, placing a hand upon the dark-haired youth's arm. _'Well at least she's putting more effort into it than Nott did'_. "I'm terribly sorry Sammy! I didn't mean any of those things I said on the train, I was just feeling really irritable and I know that it is no excuse for the horrible things I have done, but I-"

The girl faltered off as a Samael showed her the universal 'halt' sign, he smiled sardonically at her, then tapped his lips with his index finger, calling for silence. "Well I never!" she huffed.

"Samael listen to me please!" Draco attempted once more. "You were acting so strange earlier, I didn't know how to act. Please Samael! Father and Bella told me how you were at the Ministry-" Frigid verdant eyes bore into Draco, as a petite hand clenched around the blonde's arm painfully tight, that in the end the Malfoy heir released a whimper. From the way Samael had angled it, to anyone that wasn't in the near vicinity, it had looked as if Draco had injured his arm and Samael was attempting to help. "I-I'm sorry Samael!" gasped Draco, releasing a huge sigh of relief when his hand was freed.

When Zabini sat beside Parkinson, he wisely said nothing as he assessed the situation, he just furtively shot glances at the downtrodden blonde and the seemingly calm raven-haired child. It was just after Samael completed his small meal that he spoke, and as planned the surrounding first-year Slyhterins were eager to listen to every word.

"I am genuinely surprised," Samael admitted serenely, gently setting his cutlery aside, and removing the serviette from his lap. "I am surprised that any of you were sorted into Slytherin."

"Just what are you talking about!" Zabini hissed outraged, growing more agitated when the child opposite him only smiled darkly. "We are the epitome of Salazar Slytherin! Do you not know who my mother is?"

"Zabini," Samael stated calmly. "I believe I already informed you that I knew of your family, when we were on the train, surely you have a better memory that that? And as you are so knowledgeable on the subject, what was Salazar Slytherin renown for?"

The Italian child sneered at Samael, before snidely replying, "Everybody knows that Slytherin was famous for being: a parselmouth, ambitious, a blood-purity activist, cunning-"

"Well done Zabini on being able to read a textbook," praised the other boy patronisingly, before turning to Parkinson. "Tell me, what is the definition of 'cunning'?"

"I honestly do not see any reason for this," she protested, forgetting her dinner in favour for the Lestrange heir.

"Humour me."

"Cunning is being sly," she answered haughtily, bristling as Samael had the audacity to laugh at her.

"I believe that 'sly' is a word which equates to 'cunning' not defines it. Draco, can you redeem yourself here?"

"Is it when you gain something by deceit?" the blonde murmured warily, distrusting the glint in the younger boy's eyes. _'Good'.'_

"Are you answering me or questioning me Draco?" Samael queried, brushing invisible lint from his robes.

Draco grit his teeth in annoyance, being submissive just didn't work for him. He only ever had to be inferior to his father, as was Malfoy custom. Mafloys bowed to no-one, and yet he had to lower himself for Samael. Undoubtedly, the darker-haired child, was significantly more powerful but it did not mean Draco had to change his character for him, and the child would no longer stand for it. "It is when you gain something by being deceitful," he answered, an expression of haughtiness upon his face.

"Correct," praised Samael, flashing the blonde a small smile. "Back in the compartment, all of you, save Draco, dismissed me because of my demeanour. By doing this you not only ignored the possible benefits from having an alliance with me, but you also ignored the possibility of me being a danger to yourselves."

"You? A danger?" snorted Nott, running a hand through his hair. "You're a cripple! You could not harm any of us!"

"I have the feeling that I am talking to a brick wall with you Nott," Samael replied, glaring at said child. "What have I just said? If I wasn't such a threat to you, than why are my marks on not only you, but on Zabini and Parkinson also."

"What? What are you-" Zabini attempted to say, but was cut-off by Samael.

"If I had desired, I could have murdered you. You allowed yourselves to judge a person's skills based upon no knowledge whatsoever, that is not what a Slytherin does! I am ashamed to even be associated with you all, a Slytherin by nature, should gather all the facts before deciding whether to dismiss someone or not. Did you not think it strange that I knew so much about you, and yet you absolutely nothing about me? Zabini you said, and I quote 'you're probably just some filthy mudblood.' That thought should never have even crossed your mind, despite how I was originally acting. You should have noticed the quality of my clothes and assumed that I was at least a half-blood."

"What are you saying?" Parkinson asked, all traces of superiority lost in the dominating aura that was Samael Lestrange.

"What I am saying is, I set a test for your abilities – and all of you failed." This time, there was no protestations to his words, as they silently contemplated what had been revealed to them. "My mark is in the form of a raven, and it is on your necks." The affected three's hands shot to the necks, only to recoil them when met with black, viscous fluid. "Temporary-ink charm, it will wash off with water, tattooists use them for showing a potential design," he informed them, when seeing their confused faces.

"But when? How?"

"Oh, well Parkison got hers when we shook hands – they're a bit clammy by the way. Nott his when I opened the window on the train, and Zabini when I was putting my robes on," he stated, before rising when the rest of his house stood. "A word for the wise," he murmured, so that only they could hear. "Never underestimate a Lestrange. And if you ever call me 'Sammy' again, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Samael Lestrange has finally entered Hogwarts, what shall be revealed?

Nelly the Elephant is owned by Ralph Butler and Peter Hart, she is in no way mine :)

Sorry for the wait everybody, but this is the longest chapter to date :)

Thank you for my beta, who dedicated her time trawling through this grammatical mess of mine; you have a lot of courage **Zoey Rowan**.


	9. A Day At A Time

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>A Day at a Time...<span>

_Prescribed pills._

_To offset the shakes._

_To offset the pills._

_You know you should take -_

_It a day at a time._

_Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks – Panic! At The Disco_

* * *

><p>"I am aware that the other Head of Houses do not make such speeches," drawled Severus Snape to both his newest and older Snakes alike, in a voice which suggested his disapproval at such thoughtlessness. "However I am sure that the requirement is not as dire for them as it is I," he softly said, voice carrying smoothly in the silence of the common room, from the attention he was receiving from all of the years.<p>

"We, as a house, are persecuted against. That is the best way I can phrase the problem. You will discover that you will be openly ignored, taunted, and/or abused because of the other houses prejudice against ours." Severus stiffened at a loud snort of unamused laughter, and turned his obsidian eyes to the cause.

"Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Flint?" Severus enquired lightly to the 7th year, watching the teenager's eyes flit with bitterness. _'Oh I understand the pain Mr. Flint, those 7__th__ year Gryffindors left you thoroughly humiliated and vulnerable when you were 11 didn't they?'_

"No, sir. Excuse me for interrupting, I meant no disrespect," the boy answered, all traces of anger he had been feeling not evident in his voice.

"I understand. Thank you for the apology," the Potions Master replied, inclining his head gracefully at the Slytherin. _'Well done, Mr. Flint. You used to act like such a hot-headed little Gryffindor, I'm proud to call you a Snake.'_

"Of course, when I was a student, the professors were much stricter and held little respect for such displays of immaturity, so they were quite neutral in their judgement." _'Ah, dear Slughorn. He held such little regard for Potter and Black, he loved Lily though. It was almost a shame to have to push him down the stairs...almost.'_ "However it is not the case these days. Whilst I have been teaching at Hogwarts for the past 11 years, so have James Potter and Sirius Black, and starting tomorrow Lily Potter also. You will find that in lessons you will all be subjected to bigotry, whether that be overlooking your talents, or being openly hostile."

The first-years watched their elders all agree to their head of house's remarks, and grew either angry, worried, or interested.

"My subject is Potions, if you were not aware. I will not punish any of you in class; however I do not tolerate disobedience. Potion brewing is a highly volatile and important lesson, and if you misbehave then you will be punished in the safety of my office." _'Merlin knows having you punished publicly by your Head of House will rile the others into a frenzy.'_

"Whilst you are in Slytherin, I expect you to further your connections, not only with your fellow house-mates, but also with other years and or houses – it will be difficult but it is not impossible. If you perform a favour for someone, always ask them for something in return before you help. You are Slytherins – everything is to your advantage."

"Many other professors, especially the Headmaster say they want you to have _fun_ whilst you attend here," Severus sneered, his toned suggesting just how little he thought of that notion. "Therefore we have House-cups and Quidditch tournaments – we have won both for many years, and we will continue to do so for many more."

"Despite our unpopularity among the school, we gain points. This is because, I expect you to be polite in the hallways, do not use magic unless you are instructed to in lessons or you are in the common room, be cordial to each house and professor, do not rise to any taunt, and if you are hexed then come straight to me, unless it is life-threatening then you go to the infirmary." _'That pathetic woman, she just ignored all signs of abuse she sees in my Snakes.'_ "I am sure that if you are wronged, then any of the upper-year Slytherins will assist you, however do note, that it will most probably be at a price." at these words, the elder-Slytherins smirked nastily at their newest house-mates.

"Please note: that if you are the happy-go-lucky type of person – which undoubtedly some of you are, I want you to perfect a mask. A façade if you will, to show the outside; only show your true self to those you trust. To everyone else, we are a formidable uniform front, whose skills lie in various arrays of subject areas; we always hold the upper-hand. Is everything I said, understood?"

The murmurs of agreement he received throughout all seven years, pleased him. He gave them all a terse nod, before exiting the rooms, robes billowing with a dramatic flair as the door shut with an echoing 'bang'.

* * *

><p>Bella relaxed into her husband's form from where they both laid upon the deep-red, velvet chaise, glad for the comfort he was providing. Pulling his arm from where it was squeezed between the two of them, Rodolphus wrapped it around Bella's frame.<p>

"I miss him," she murmured, breaking the silence between the two of them. His arm merely tightened around her, as his nose remaining buried in her wild-locks, from where he had just kissed them.

"I do too, ma Belle," he admitted into her ear, smiling at the surprised expression which would surely be on her face. _'You are a good thing for her Samael,'_ he thought happily _'Thank Merlin we found you again.' _Lifting his head from her hair, he smiled fondly down at Bella who had turned to face him.

"You do?" she questioned, locking her eyes intensely onto his; searching for any deception which may be hidden within in the depths she knew so well.

"Yes, ma Belle," he replied softly, capturing her lips in a chaste kiss, before extricating himself from her, in order to sit-up. "Rest some, it has been a tiring day for us both," he told her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, before rising, intent on contacting his brother.

The search must continue once more.

* * *

><p>2nd September 1991 – just after midnight.<p>

Two stunning emerald eyes cracked open, pupils adjusting to the darkened atmosphere of the room. Eerie lagoon-green lights from the lake beyond the windows, danced menacingly across the scene before the child, but the boy paid it no attention, focusing instead upon the soft-snores being omitted from the others in the room.

He assessed each of the other children, assured that they were all lost in the arms of Morpheus, before he easily escaped the confines of the bed-covers. _'Pitiful,' _the boy thought, casting one last glance at his fellow year-mates. _'So vulnerable as they succumb to sleep, it would be so simple to murder them – no-one would ever know. Not even a detection charm on their slumbering forms.' _He quietly crept (as well as he could, sans cane) from the room, padding silently across the flag-tone floor towards the communal bathroom, adjacent to the bedroom.

Ensuring that the door was secure from any intruders, with a well-placed locking-charm, he finally let out a sigh of relief, before sinking to the chilled ground aside one of the toilets. Failing at his attempts to warm his bare chest, by hugging his scar-laden arms around himself; he instead curled his spindly fingers around the wand in his palm, and murmured_ '__abscondere omnes cicatrices '_

It was rather disconcerting, the 'feeling' of having scars (both old and new) being hidden under a thin layer of magic. It was akin to shedding skin, and Samael did not like it one bit. The scars which had accompanied him his whole life, had suddenly been removed from his skin, as if all the terror he had endured had just disappeared within a blink of an eye. That one thought, made the child feel as if tiny insects were crawling through his flesh. Nothing would ever erase years of abuse from the vindicated child's mind, and the mere though was repugnant to him.

Abandoning those thoughts, the child snuck a hand to the waistband of his sleeping-pants, withdrew a linen-cloth package (which he had hidden there earlier), and carefully pried the ends apart, revealing the small forms of pistachio nuts. The appearance of the substance physically made the child ill, just thinking about how everyone expected him to ingest the things for his well-being brought a wave of incredulity. How could he ever eat one of them?

He had never disliked pistachios before; in fact Samael quite enjoyed them. He liked prising the shell apart, to reveal the flesh, adored their salty tang, as they slid down his throat, and praised them to the high-heavens, for the fact that he could take many without the Dursley's notice (Petunia always assumed that Vernon ate some for a snack at night).

Holding one pistachio between his index-finger and his thumb, he brought it close to his face and peered at it closely. _'Disgusting.'_ he thought venomously, crushing the nut, so the shards of shell and flesh scattered across the stone floor below him. Immediately afterwards, his frail hand flew to his lips, willing the bile that had burnt its scorching trail to the back of his throat to leave, which in the process caused the linen to fall to the floor – although none escaped the wrappings.

_'Everything is disgusting.' _Samael thought, whilst hurriedly emptying the contents of the package into the crystal-clear water of the bowel of the toilet. Breath coming in short pants, as the stench of piss (and the odour only an 11 year old boy's toilet could produce) invaded his nostrils.

_'Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.'_ he repeated as if it were a mantra, whilst he leant against the cold porcelain. But the child no longer knew whether it was the pistachio, or the sight of his marred body (which had been revealed after a few insignificant minutes) which had evoked such strong revulsion from him. All he knew was that the satisfaction, which had spread through him, once the chain was pulled, and the small salty nuts had been flushed away, was overwhelming. So overwhelming in fact, that the thought of not doing it every night, brought panic to his heart, and tears to his eyes.

* * *

><p>Submerged into the depths of Slytherin history, Samael started noticing the sound of newly-awoken Slytherins walking sedately into the common room; yet not acknowledging them. His cane leaned against the arm of the plush, high-class onyx sofa, on which he was sitting upon, whilst his tome was resting upon his lap<p>

He had been ensconced in the dungeons ever since the situation in the bathroom in the early hours of the morning. By the time he had calmed his heart from his asinine fears, a thin sheen of sweat had layered his body, causing the child to cringe at every moment – he had spent enough time at the Dursleys with little hygiene that it had become a luxury for the child to at least shower twice a day.

So after an extremely thorough shower, (with furious scrubbing being the main modus operendi), which had led to tender and angry-red skin, Samael had snuck back into the dormitory. He had hissed through his clenched teeth, as his rough and abrasive uniform-material scratched his sore skin, but gripped his cane tightly and left his sleeping year-mates without a backward glance.

After entering the chilled atmosphere of the common room, he slowly made his way towards the sitting-area near the ashes of the deserted, burnt-out fireplace. Disturbed, he perched primly upon the edge of one of the black Chesterfield sofas, unfocused eyes, dazedly noting the grandeur of the room, which he had not studied the night previously.

The actual architecture to the room was foreign to the child; he remembered the monotony of Dursley life, where the only place he came close to seeing such ornately carved features such as the ones before him, were when Petunia used to watch repeats of the Muggle prince Charles marrying Lady Diana at Westminster Abbey. Where the majestic medieval carvings and engravings, adorned both the interior and exterior of the Royal Peculiar. And the splendour of both the Malfoy, and the Lestrange Manor did not even compare to the dedicated pillars, which with their heavy, sweeping arcs dominated the Slytherin common room.

Once his mind had been dragged away from the architecture, it immediately honed in once more onto the 'bathroom incident'. He shivered lightly in revulsion, as the feeling of his vulnerability became apparent to him – he had cried, he never cried. He hadn't cried since he was a child, when harbouring those weak emotions were understandable, but he had soon became aware that tears did not reward you. Not if you were the 'Freak'. No, tears would just only result in pain, from a belt across the back for being 'ungrateful' and not 'appreciating' his relatives' 'kindness'.

Samael shook his head roughly, losing himself in the past was _not _an option, he could only focus upon the present. And the fact of the matter, was that he was rejecting anything that was associated with the Dursleys – which considering his circumstances should be welcomed. He associated his old rags with the Dursleys, so he bought clothes – Wizarding ones. He associated his lanky hair as his life with the Dursleys – he now had a wavy coiffure his mother had styled. He associated his poor eyesight with his Muggle life – he now had twenty-twenty vision. He associated pistachio nuts with the Dursleys – so he removed them from his diet. This was perfectly understandable to the child, once he was in his rational mind, so there was no need to have a breakdown in the boy's bathroom. So once again, Samael Cygnus Lestrange's 'weak' emotions were buried, deep, deep down beneath many layers of determination, cunning and hatred.

Suitably content with the knowing the source behind the 'bathroom incident', he settled himself more comfortably into the Chesterfield, and from this new angle a small, black object could be seen, peeking out from under the sofa opposite the one he was currently residing on. Rising from the sofa, he quickly retrieved the object, and saw that it was a leather-bound journal of sorts. The internal debate on whether to return it to its owner in order for a favour, versus keeping it, reading it, and then blackmailing the owner was extremely one-sided.

So after relaxing himself back into the furniture, he gleefully opened the journal, cursing himself as he felt a wave of magic wash over him. _'Honestly Samael that was such a textbook mistake – what Slytherin worth his brimstone would not ward the object which could potentially ruin them? I must look over searching spells, or something similar. Well if I have just harmed myself, I better get my information.'_

And with that thought, Samael opened the worn, leather book to an aged, liquid-stained (which the child assumed were potions) piece of parchment.

_Welcome to the journal of Salazar Slytherin, this contains my memories, memoirs and recipes throughout my entire life. It is dedicated to my heir, Segimerus Casper Slytherin, and any future heirs he may have, for only those of Slytherin blood may access this journal, and those not of the 'pure' Slytherin blood, well their end shall not be the prettiest._

Placing the book into his lap, he pondered upon what he had read. According to this he was of the Slytherin line and the raven-haired child remembered the hat saying something similar to it also. '_The 2__nd__ Heir of Slytherin, so who was the 1__st__? Surely not Robert? No, the Potters don't seem to have a Slytherin bone in their body.' _But the only other person whose blood he shared was Lord Voldemort's, _'So my dear brother is the descendant of Salazar Slytherin – interesting.' _The child thought, before returning to Slytherin's journal once more.

_I was born in 969, in the Fenlands close to the county of Lincolnshire. My father died when I was a babe, and my mother (Seraphina Slytherin) was the Wise Woman for one of the Muggles' tribes, so she healed them, and also guided them on their way. However when I was 13 year old, she could not help one of the Muggle farmer's crops grow, so he killed her. I have hated Muggles ever since._

_Some say I am prejudiced, for it was just one Muggle who strayed from the proverbial 'path' and killed her, however I have observed these beings for many years, and have seen them as they are – greedy, wanton and loathsome. Godric, of course constantly contradicts me on this matter, he believes them to be righteous. Rowena, (perhaps the smartest of us all), knows them to be dangerous, and has thus refused to venture pass the gates of Hogwarts; Helga – well she remains steadfast in her bid to please us all. She knows that Muggles __could__ redeem themselves, but knows them to be a threat also, so she acts as the messenger between both Muggle and Magical worlds. She retrieves those menial Muggle trinkets which Godric adores, but also ensures that no Muggles wander into Hogwarts._

Salazar seemed knowledgeable in the flaws of Muggles, yet he hadn't seemed very cunning to the child. Godric appeared to be obstinate and ignorant, it was implied that Rowena had suffered from the Muggles some way or another, and Helga seemed to be torn between her three friends. Samael hummed in contemplation, and skipped several pages.

_Hereditary Potion_

_In order of addition to bubbling cauldron:_

_3 Basilisk tail scales, crushed._

_Powdered Moonstone (pinch)._

_Lacewing flies, dried._

_Valerian Roots, shredded_

_Blood of those whose heritage one is discovering._

_Leave to stew for three hours, and then pour onto parchment._

_The need of this potion was arisen because a woman (Anaguistl Manders) claimed that Segimerus is the father to her child – ElmerAlgar Manders (Slytherin)? The results of which, proved that Segimerus was indeed the father, apparently Elmer was the result of a drunken night – needless to say, I had severe words with him, and in turn he asked for Anguistl's hand._

_Godric and I had a disagreement earlier today. He thought it right that Muggleborn children should be accepted at Hogwarts without earlier education into our culture, but like the hot-headed imbecile he is, he could not see the problem! And despite Godric wanting them to enter, he cannot force them. And as it is in the Muggle world today, many of the parents simply refuse to give their children into our hands for the better part of the year, when they could be spent working or being married off._

_And regardless if the Muggles do or do not want their children here, if they do not accept our way of life, then I cannot see why we should accept them anyway. Godric did not understand my reasoning; he swung his (stolen) sword about as if he was the chief, and then attacked! Such a coward. When he wakes up he'll be in for a surprise. Undoubtedly he's spent the night in that Muggle brothel, but I'm afraid that he'll have none of that so-called 'attractive' hair, and will find that his so-called 'wench sword' out of use for a while._

_Impotency Potion._

_Lasts for approx. 72 hours._

"How long have you been down here Samael?" a familiar voice interrupted, he had of course, noticed the waking Slytherins, but had failed to notice the arrival of his blonde companion. So for the second time that day, the Lestrange heir cursed his lack of awareness. Glancing behind Draco's left shoulder, he saw the large, protective masses of both Crabbe and Goyle, and the thin builds of Nott, Zabini and Parkinson who were horridly concealing their want of the blonde's attention.

"I honestly do not know Draco; I awoke, prepared for the morning and then immersed myself in reading. I am used to early risings," the raven-haired child answered, ignoring the blonde stiffen at the indication of his life with the Dursleys; the raven-haired child lifted an eyebrow at the Malfoy.

"Be that as it may, we need to get down to breakfast." Draco announced, unwilling to bask in the awkward silence which had been raised with the Muggles being mentioned.

Samael furrowed his brows in confusion, softly closing the journal before placing it on the low table between the two Chesterfields, content in knowing no-one else could read the thing. "Why must we have breakfast at the moment? Surely you can go by yourselves?" he asked, a faint echo of mocking on the edge of the words, causing Parkinson to scoff.

"Everyone knows that the first-year Slytherins must enter the Hall first, followed by the second years, third years, and so on," the girl answered, in an obnoxious tone, causing Samael's eyes to narrow dangerously. "Like Professor Snape said last night, we are a uniform front, so we must all show our respect to the seventh years, by arriving beforehand and creating an audience for them"

_'It is time that house learnt what it was truly for' 'I believe you the one to be to shake it up' 'You are __the second heir to Slytherin'_ flashed through his mind. Was that what the hat meant? Because in Samael's mind, the most powerful should enter the hall first, followed by the weaker ones; that would most definitely be a show of strength. Why must the older years arrive last? They may be 17, but they may also be magically weak, so why should Samael show them respect?

Of course, the raven-haired child would not make his move yet. That would be complete suicide on his part. No, to ensure that the House of Snakes returned to its previous glory, a bit of reading would have to take place on his part. But the idea was there, and would undoubtedly take place given ample time.

* * *

><p>According to the Slytherin 'Laws', the 7th years arrived last into the Great Hall, and exited first. This was the reason why, (despite already eating the small amount of toast) Samael was still in the Hall, listening to the obnoxious laughter of the upper-years.<p>

The raven-haired child had not noticed it the night previously, but the first-years were the students most closest to the Head Table, whether this was to instil privacy on the 'deserving' upper-years or mere coincidence was debatable, yet Samael was rooting on the former. Glancing towards the older Slytherins, he noted that the 7th years themselves had their own little hierarchy, and that the Lambert heir was their 'king' – so subsequently 'King of Slytherin'.

Lucius' birthday present to the Lestrange heir was a genealogy book on all of the old pureblood families, which the child ardently studied (amongst various other resources) in the month previous to attending Hogwarts. Internally referring back to the present, he studied the Lambert line; Edmund Lambert II, the only child to Edmund Lambert I and Vivian Lambert (nee Füchsin), not the sharpest athame in the ritual-kit, nor the star of the duelling club – overall a shame to the revered House of Lambert.

_'But yet...'_ The 'King of Slytherin' _'Why is that? What has he got that has made him second only to Severus in the Snake-house? Think Samael, THINK!'_ he mused to himself, growing irritable as the answer which was tantalisingly dancing at the tip of his tongue, still remained elusive to him. _'Oh yes, I see now.'_

Upon closer inspection, there were no reverent looks being thrown upon Lambert, annoyed ones yes, reverent ones, no. _'He's blackmailing them, well done Lambert. However you have a flaw – they don't respect you.'_ The self-satisfied smirk settled upon Samael's lips, the road to success was tremulous, but clear as day to the Lestrange heir.

Content in knowing a way to fix the mess which was currently the Slytherin House, Samael cast his gaze around the Hall, narrowing it upon the figure of Potter Jr uproariously laughing it up with his fellow Lions (of all ages). _'Already the Head Lion I see. Rather pathetic, but are you the leader for your skills or mine?'_

_'It's rather sickening to see the doting looks your parents send you, just like Vernon and Petunia towards their precious Dudders. Oh, and Black is deep in conversation (and alcoholic beverages) with that oaf Draco mentioned once, but oh Merlin, did Black really just undo his shirt buttons? That is one thing I could have gone my entire life without subjecting myself to.'_

A clash of purple flashed passed his eyesight, whilst a sharp, burning pain made itself known to where his scar was concealed. Gritting his teeth, he casually flicked the hair from his eyes, whilst surreptitiously soothing his head. Resolute, he gained the attention of a third-year – Warrington his mind supplied.

"Who is the professor talking to Professor Snape?" he questioned softly, smirking at the sneer which formed upon the elder Slytherin's face.

"And who might you be? I do not answer questions without proper introduction." was the answering reply, with a disdainful sniff. _'Growing accustomed to the extra power gained as a third year.'_

"Ah, a mistake on my part, which I regret, and shall do my best to rectify. Samael Lestrange," the raven-haired child smoothly said, allowing just the correct amount of apology into his tone, yet not enough to seem weak, whilst simultaneously stretching his hand across the distance which separated them. If the Lestrange heir noticed the widening of Warrington's eyes, he did not show it, but nodded at the firm shake of the hand which the third-year provided.

"It is quite all right, Lestrange," Warrington replied, offering a small grin which would fool most but those in the Snake-house. "I am Cadmus Warrington, it is an honest mistake to make, you were probably just too caught up at being at Hogwarts." _'Negative mark Warrington, you __presumed__, that I am whimsical enough to be distracted from the goal by the glittering lights which surround it – bad move on your part.'_ "What was it you wanted to know?"

"Thank you Warrington. I was wondering who the professor talking to Professor Snape was," Samael repeated calmly.

"And what can you offer me in return?" the older Slytherin asked, leaning forward in his seat in eager anticipation.

"Chocolate croissants." was the simple reply, as the raven-haired youth leant backward, widening the gap between the two 'Snakes'.

"And why would I want chocolate croissants? I can get as many as I would like every mealtime," Warrington said, indicating 3 of the said confectioneries on his plate.

"Ah, you misunderstand." Samael answered, the smirk widening on his face, whilst he steepled his fingers together. "It is common knowledge that there is a limit to the amount of sweet-stuffs one can consume at the table, I am offering you 4 extra-" he announced, presenting 4 delicate fingers for emphasis. "-chocolate croissants, for the answer you give me. Also, I can give you anything else – within reason – your heart may desire in return for any information I deem worthy. So Warrington-" Samael murmured; meeting the calculating teal gaze with his own satisfied emerald one. "Do we have a deal?"

"Lestrange, I believe we do. Professor Snape was talking to Professor Quirrel, he was the Muggle Studies Professor, but he has come back as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I will be in the common room at 10PM, I will be expecting four chocolate croissants – do not fail me." Warrington answered, before turning his back on the younger boy, not hearing the scoff which escaped the child's mouth.

"So how are you going to get him extra croissants?" Pansy murmured to her fellow Snake, scepticism dripping from her tongue, telling the child exactly what the female thought of his deal.

"Why Parkinson!" Samael replied in a shocked tone, delighted at the doubting expression which flashed across the girl's face. "I will retrieve them from the kitchens of course, I did of course know that inbreeding caused _some _defects in the Parkinson line, I just had no idea it was this severe."

The female Slytherin bristled at the comment, her face breaking out in unattractive red blotches as the anger and embarrassment took her. Shaking hands reached for a wand, whilst blue eyes narrowed in fury upon the Lestrange heir; before they relaxed and cooled. _'Ah, so you are not the hot-headed little Gryffindor as you first appeared as? Almost a pity.'_ "Oh I am sorry Lestrange. I was under the impression that students did not know the location of the Kitchens, forgive my ignorance," she replied in a facetious tone, whilst her wand was re-holstered.

"It is okay Parkinson, I forgive you," came the simple reply, and the female couldn't hide the annoyed huff which escaped her. "It is understandable that you did not know of my secret sources, after all they are that – secret."

"I think you may have permanently broken Parkinson," Draco casually remarked, casting a cautious glance at his companion. The previous night had produced the first falling out since the beginning of their friendship. The blonde was unsure of what to name their meetings; they had not officially named themselves as 'friends', but neither had he with Zabini. However, he never thought of Zabini as anything other than 'Zabini' but yet he called Samael 'Samael' not 'Lestrange', so surely they must be friends? Comrades, maybe? Acquaintances, surely?

"Do not be silly Draco," rebuked the raven-haired child gently, "She just has to learn her place in the world."

"Are you not worried that she'll pose a threat to yourself?" the blonde queried, Samael's words from the previous night echoing through his head.

"Well, there is an extremely minute chance that she will be able to injure me and survive, however I continuously assess everyone's abilities, and she is not skilled enough to pose any harm."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Draco murmured, shivering internally, as he remembered the time his mother got revenge against his father when he inadvertently insulted her.

"Be that as it may, Draco, I know she will not harm me because she respects me."

"She can hardly stand you Samael!" the Malfoy heir protested, watching as the girl in question flicked eyes of hate towards the child beside him whilst not pausing in her conversation with Greengrass.

"One does not have to like another to respect them. You are correct in saying she dislikes me, as she certainly does not respect my attitude towards her, but she respects my logic and my power."

"So what am I?" the blonde questioned, "Where do I fall on your 'respect scale'? Will I ever be able to be a threat to you?"

"Anyone can be a threat Draco," Samael answered, whilst brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "Everybody can hurt anybody, we are after all, merely human. Brittle bones, which protect vital organs, contained in a thin layer of skin – anything can hurt." He paused at the perplexed look upon his companion's face, before his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Maim."

"Sorry, what?" Draco asked, confused at the logic the other child was expressing.

"I said 'maim'. We both respect the other; we both trust our power and our logic. Therefore you can only maim me; you would stop yourself before it got too serious – if only because you feared Bellatrix."

"So, I cannot seriously injure?" the blonde asked with a grin, rising when the second years left their seats.

"I would surely hope not, Draco," Samael replied, mimicking the blonde's movements. "Blood is horrendously difficult to remove from the clothes."

* * *

><p>"Ooohhh!" squealed a delighted voice from above, swiftly turning to look at the cause of the noise, he saw a translucent, pot-bellied man sweep from the air, scattering custard at anyone unlucky enough to catch the ghost's attention. "'Ickle firsties! You can't run from the great ol' Peeves, the prankster extraordinaire!" and with that declaration, he continued to throw his viscous fluids about, even daring to blow a raspberry in McGonagall's face when she attempted to shoo the poltergeist away.<p>

Predictably, havoc ensued. Many of the Muggleborn students whimpered to themselves in varying states of fear; even if they had accepted the existence of the other-worldly apparitions from the feast the previous night, they were _not _expecting a chaotic, prank-pulling poltergeist who was so unlike the courteous ghosts they had already met.

The elder-students, in contrast to the first-years, were displaying a wide array of emotions. Some of the elder Hufflepuffs' loyalty stood the test as they protected the younger-years who hadn't yet mastered the shielding spell, whilst the Slytherins had waves of smug satisfaction practically rolling from them, with their organised system where the basis was each-man-for-himself unless he could pay.

The Ravenclaws were embracing their creativity and intelligence, to decide which was the best method to protect themselves, however it was the Gryffindor foolishness which gained the most attention, and they were egging the Poltergeist on in his machinations, but were outraged when the apparation did not refrain from including them as his targets.

It wasn't until the mischievous apparation decided to choose Severus as his next victim, that students and professors alike were saved. The Potions Professor had strode from his rooms, fury burning in his onyx eyes at the ruckus which had disturbed him from his walk to the dungeons. The sight which met him was a custard strewn corridor, huddles of frightened, stained children, and a disapproving Transfiguration Professor screaming at a cackling Poltergeist.

"Ooohh! It's Batty, the Potions Professor. What'ca gonna do greasy Batty? Are ya gonna throw your 'ickle Potions 'bout, till everyone's as greasy as you?" the apparation taunted, arm stretched backwards in preparation to throw his missile, to the crows of laughter of the children below.

"Peeves," Severus drawled, immediately quieting the students around him. His voice promised pain, which some of the elder-students knew of personally. "It would benefit you greatly if you vacated this area," the man advised with impassivity, smiling cruelly as the Poltergeist did not listen to his words, but threw his missiles at the Potions Master, where they splattered themselves against his invisible shield.

"You should listen to me Peeves," Severus stated, "Because I am the Head of Slytherin House, and as Head of the Slytherin House, I have many conversations with the Slytherin ghost. In fact, I can get him here right at this moment." He spoke calmly, eyebrow raised in derision as Peeve's face grew impossibly paler. "I am sure that Lord Galahad would be delighted to hear of your escapades whilst-"

"Peevesies must be leaving now! The Bloody Baron shall have Peevesies hide!" the Poltergeist shouted loudly, dropping all of his weapons onto the floor. "Batty is Batty no more, he is 'sir'. Goodbyeee Sir of Potions, shall we meet again some other day!" was the poltergeists hurried reply, before quickly sweeping through the wall to his left.

"Well that was certainly unexpected," Samael murmured to his blonde companion, silently remembering the 3 S's the other child taught him two months previous once the staring of the other students became slightly unnerving.

"I agree, Severus dealt with him pretty well though," Draco replied; smirking as their fellow students parted to allow the two Slytherins through

"I would be disappointed if he did not," Samael answered, and they remained in comfortable silence until they neared the moving staircases. "Hogwarts: A History, says that the staircases are enchanted to move to wherever the majority of people on them are headed. So considering there are only 7 people on this staircase, and they are all 2nd year Hufflepuffs, I believe we should wait."

"That's great logic Samael, really," the blonde sarcastically said, rolling his eyes at the youth. "And what shall we say to McGonagall when we're late? 'Apologies Professor, but we were fascinated by the animated stairwells,'" he mimicked in a female falsetto, causing the other child to glare half-heartedly at the blonde. "I think not."

"Ah, but there is one thing you have forgotten, Dragon," Samael answered, emerald eyes dancing in delight, at the blush (which was unsuccessfully being suppressed) on the Malfoy heir's face, with the use of his mother's affectionate name. "McGonagall most likely remained to clean the mess from the corridor, reassure some of the weak-willed Muggleborn, then inform Dumbledore about another rebellious event from the Poltergeist, and _then_ have to wait for a staircase to take her to her classroom, as she is most definitely a minority."

"You are correct, that thought had indeed slipped my mind," Draco said with a grin to the other boy, who smiled tightly in return, before stepping onto the now evacuated staircase.

They were in actuality the first students to arrive in Transfiguration classroom, and so were both faced with the dilemma of where to sit. If they sat at the front then their backs were open for attack from the Gryffindors, likewise if they sat in the middle then they would be trapped between two rows of the Lion-house, and if they sat at the back then there was the possibility that the Gryffindors would go out of their way to distract the Slytherins. It was an easy decision to make, as the two boys quickly slid into the furthest row from the front, where (inevitably) the Gryffindors would avoid, and the Slytherins would gather.

* * *

><p>The two ginger-haired boys had ensconced themselves into the nearest alcove from the Great Hall, after the breakfast had ended, dragging the nervous form Neville Longbottom with them. The two red-haired boys leant against the wall, using their height as an intimidating advantage to tower over the frightened Longbottom heir.<p>

"We've been told that you know quite a bit about the Lestranges," Ronald Weasley stated, smiling nastily at the hurried nod the dark-haired boy gave him. "What do you know about them exactly?"

"W-well my Mum and Dad said that they were on the 'to watch' list for the Aurors, as they were suspected of being Death Eaters but it could never be proved. According to Mum, Bellatrix Lestrange was tall, medium-build, with long, wavy black hair, and heavy-lidded dark eyes; whilst Rodolphus Lestrange was tall, slim with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard," the Longbottom stuttered out, watching nervously as the Potter nodded his head in acceptance.

The nervous child wet his lips and stimulated his salivary glands for strength to continue. "Both Slytherins and both talented at Defence Against the Dark Arts," the Longbottom heir stated, ensuring that he never looked the other two in the eyes, in fear of what they would do. He had only spent a couple of hours with the boys, but he knew they were the type to start a fight with little to no provocation.

"So how come they haven't been seen in years?" Robert Potter asked, with an eerily desperate glint to his hazel eyes.

"Gram told me that they left the country a day after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed; only telling Ministry that they were having family troubles."

"Family troubles?" the Weasley echoed, and the Longbottom nodded shakily.

"Mum told me that Bellatrix had trouble having kids, there was something wrong with her or something. No-one even knew that she was pregnant with this Samael boy - in fact she was hardly seen out of her Manor ever since she graduated. But maybe she had a miscarriage or something; that seems like something to escape the country for."

"I guess, but it seems wrong to me," Potter said, staring hard at his ginger-haired companion, as if he could offer some sort of previously hidden idea.

"I don't really know," the dark-haired child said with a shrug. "Dad said once that the Lestranges were most likely close to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, maybe they considered him family, and left because of his death."

"That's so stupid Neville," Robert Potter sneered at the other child, making him flinch from the amount of derogation in that expression, telling him exactly how much his suggestion _wasn't _appreciated. The stuttering child, watched as the two ginger-haired boys turned to one another and began listing off reasons why Neville Longbottom should have been a 'Huffle Duffer' not a 'Brave Lion' Seeing that they were properly distracted, the Longbottom heir quietly slipped away from his two intimidating year-mates, and hurried to his next class which he was almost late for, too scared to mention to the other two Gryffindors that they would be late also if they did not leave.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being family!" Ronald Weasley sneered, laughing obnoxiously with Robert. "Everyone knows that he was a monster, and didn't care for anything – he was insane."

"I know," Robert agreed, "Eurgh, imagine if he had a brother." He shuddered, adding to his appearance of revulsion.

"That's disgusting!" Ronald declared, making a disgusted face at his best-friend, who shrugged unashamedly at the Weasley. "So this 'Samael' boy's parents then?" the youngest of the Weasley brood asked.

"According to Sirius, Samael's father is Rodolphus Lestrange, the eldest of the Lestrange brothers, Lord Lestrange, and the second richest wizard in Britain – Malfoy being the first," he stated, scowling at the mention of the Lord Malfoy. "Whilst his mother, is Bellatrix Lestrange (nee) Black; they married straight out of school, he became a politician and she became Lady of the Manor."

"So his mother's related to Sirius?"

"She's his cousin, and she hates him, something to do with him being a disgrace to the Black name or other such rot," Robert answered, offended on behalf of his Godfather.

"Well, the Blacks are known for being Dark," the Weasley boy said cautiously, flinching at the dark glare sent his way. "But Sirius is on the Light side, so I guess to this Bellatrix woman he is a disgrace."

Robert seemed to be appeased with this answer, as he nodded along in thought. "I guess you're right, do you think this means Samael will turn to the Light."

"I doubt it mate." Ronald snorted sceptically, before coughing when Robert thumped him hard on the arm. "It's possible, I guess." he amended with a small smile to his ginger-haired companion, until reality settled in around him. "Oh shit!"

"What's wrong?" Robert questioned curiously, looking around to see any professors which may be lurking in shadowy corners, however he saw nothing which could suggest his friend's current distress.

"We're late for Transfiguration – McGonagall will kill us!" he shouted, already running in the direction of the staircases, his friend hot on his heels, fear practically tattooed on their faces.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I'm sorry for the wait everyone; life has been a female dog at the moment.

Anaguistl's name is pronounced: AH-nah-Wiss-tell.

I send a massive 'THANK YOU' out to my beta (**Zoey Rowan**), who has spent her time ensuring that this grammatical mess of mine would actually make sense to my dear readers. Thank you again :)


	10. Plans Needing To Be Made

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>Plans Needing To Be Made<span>_  
><em>

_Put me back together, or separate the skin from bone;_

_Leave me all the pieces, or you can leave me all alone;_

_Tell me the reality is better than the dream, but I've found out the hard way;_

_Nothing is what it seems._

_Duality – Slipknot_

* * *

><p>"Oh Merlin, that was amusing," Samael told his blonde companion, as they left the Transfiguration classroom. Humour shone in Samael's eyes, whilst his face remained impassive; Nott, Parkinson and Zabini were following listlessly behind them, shooting metaphorical daggers at Samael's back, who merely smirked at them in return.<p>

"I know," laughed Draco, wiping his eyes as they began to water from the intensity of his laughter. "Did you see the look on Potter and Weasley's face as McGonagall jumped at them whilst transforming into her human form? Oh, it was beautiful."

"I agree, however I noticed that she refrained from removing points from them for their tardiness." Samael stated neutrally; disallowing the smirk which wanted to spread across his face, when he heard the unhappy trio behind him making sounds of grudging agreement.

Draco turned to his companion, a frown marring his otherwise perfect face when Samael withheld his emotions on the subject. "Severus told me that she's been wanting the House Cup for years, so that might explain her reluctance on taking points," he suggested.

"Well then it's understandable then is it not? As Slytherins we can respect another's motives when they present themselves," the dark-haired replied with a raised eyebrow, "however we can also use them to our advantage."

"How so?" Parkinson's voice queried from behind him, and this time a smirk did settle upon his face. _'I knew they were not totally hopeless. Then again, they did just play straight into my hands...'_

"McGonagall may refuse to punish her House by removing points, but she will not refrain from other methods of punishment," Samael said deviously; grateful that the staircase was in motion so he had time to rest his twinging ankle. "If so many of her Lions had detentions with herself or Filch, then she would have a surplus and would have to give the miscreants to other professors. And because the only Professors who can be present in detentions are the Head of Houses..." he left the sentence hanging, as the other Snakes figured out his meaning.

"Then she would have to give them over to either Black, Sprout or Snape," Zabini announced, casting desperate eyes upon Draco's, ardently wanting acknowledgement from the blonde.

"And on occasion, that oaf Hagrid," the Malfoy told the Lestrange; oblivious to the Italian boy's attentions, but instead focused upon his emerald-eyed companion who nodded accordingly to the blonde's words.

"However McGonagall would not trust so many of her Lions with the Gamekeeper, who is notorious of having detentions in the Forbidden Forest," Samael countered, sending the blonde a small smile only he could see. "Similarly she would not trust Black with her students, for a different reason though - he would most likely encourage them to disobey her; despite McGonagall being on good terms with Sprout, she would not give the her Lions to the Herbology Professor either because the students would most likely walk all over her. So that only leaves Snape, and we all know of his dislike for the Gryffindors."

"That's brilliant!" Nott exclaimed. His excitement was clearly visible upon his face for a few brief moments, before his veil of indifference fell; once he realised what he said, and how it would be interpreted by his fellow Slytherins. His other two companions raised eyebrows at him, but they themselves had only just had enough restraint to gape at the Lestrange.

"But what exactly are the Gryffindors going to do?" Zabini asked, doubting that the Lions would ever be able to pull off a stint large enough to get their whole house in detention.

"But Zabini," Samael began with a devious smirk, causing the other four to watch him warily in return. "I never said the Gryffindors would do anything. We can easily enough perform the act ourselves and place the blame on the Lions, and if needs be, we can always pull the strings from the shadows – we are not Slytherins for nothing."

The four other refused to say how brilliant they thought that plan was, so instead nodded at the child with approval.

"But what of Severus?" Draco questioned softly, he was all-for Samael's plan, but not if it meant Severus spending less time with Remus and Andras. Samael turned towards the blonde, an eyebrow raised as if he knew exactly what the blonde was thinking.

"Severus shall of course be alerted to our plans, ultimately it is his decision on whether this plan is finalised or not. I would not make Severus suffer the company of the whelps without his consent, when he has a better offer elsewhere," the raven-haired child answered, noting the confused glances the other three were sending each-other – undoubtedly attempting to guess who their Head of House could be meeting.

"Of course, we shall," the blonde answered, placated now that he knew is Godfather wouldn't be parted from his family without a choice, and slightly embarrassed for not realising that fact himself.

As a large group of 6th year Ravenclaws stepped onto the stairs from the floor above, which (in turn) caused the staircase to move in a different direction, Samael leant closer to Draco, so that his mouth was brushing the blonde's ear. "Remember the 3 S's Dragon, you're showing too much emotion," the raven-haired child admonished neutrally. Eyes shining in an unknown emotion as he swiftly spun to ascend the now stationary steps; leaving a stunned blonde behind, who quickly gathered himself together, and caught up to his estranged companion.

"Sirius Black teaches this class," Draco told Samael, face not showing the worry which was evident in his voice when it came to Samael. "Will you be able to attend this class with _him _as your Professor?"

"Your worries are for nought," Samael told him calmly, refusing to even attempt to decipher the warm feeling which was settling in his stomach at the blonde's worry. "I was able to meet all four of their gazes this morning and not curse them six ways to Sunday, it was difficult, believe me it was, however I will not harm them," the raven-haired child assured the blonde, and they both knew that the words _'just yet'_ did not have to be voiced for they were already at the tip of both of their tongues.

"Fair enough my fine companion," Draco murmured softly, inclining his head in Samael's direction, acknowledging his control and thought-process as they walked into the room. "There is no-one in here," the blonde announced, turning his head to see the distant backs of the Ravenclaws who were now on the opposite floor below, before looking back to the seemingly deserted classroom.

"But I could've sworn that those 6th years just had Charms, so where is he?" Parkinson interjected, glancing around the once warmly furnished room, which had now been hidden under the dankness which came from dusty curtains never being drawn, disallowing the sunlight to banish the stuffiness which had effectively permeated the air.

"There's probably Doxies in that fabric." Zabini grimaced at the curtains, striding to the other side of the class where he hoped he would be safe from the Biting Fairies. Draco was unsure but he was quite certain that the Nott heir was murmuring about 'evil Grandmere's' with their 'infested bedspreads' and 'sadistic house elves'

"I cannot stand those beasts!" Parkinson hissed darkly, glaring daggers at the offending fabric before quickly taking a seat aside the Zabini heir, a moue forming on her lips when Nott sat in the spare seat next to her, not Draco.

"What are you doing Samael?" the blonde questioned, when he saw that his companion was not following after his fellow Slytherins, but was instead standing aside the Professor's desk, fixated at a sight only he could see.

"What are you doing Lestrange?" Parkinson echoed the blonde, glaring at the empty side next to the Malfoy, then at the raven-haired child.

"I am finding the Professor," was Samael's calm response, pacing around the desk, a sneer fixed upon his face. The others saw the perfect mask (which seemed to always be in place), crack slightly at the amount of emotion which flashed across the child's face.

"There is no-one here but us, Lestrange." Zabini stated, although the bare amount of uncertainty which was held within that statement was apparent to all of those present.

"I would advise you to _look again_," Samael advised, making the other children think that they had performed some sort of misdemeanour in the eyes of the Lestrange. "It seems as if our resident Charms Professor and Head of Hufflepuff has had a tipple too much to drink this morning, which has led to his early-morning nap...and strip-tease." The child sneered, leaning heavily on his uninjured ankle to lift his cane so that it was in view for his fellow Snakes to see the dirty, maroon shirt dangling precariously from the end.

The revulsion which greeted the injured boy did not disappoint, however he did not expect most of it to come from Parkinson. "Oh Merlin, I definitely don't envy you, Lestrange," she murmured quietly, gaining a green tinge to her pallor. It seemed that not even Black's handsome features could deter the Parkinson from her dislike of him, like it did to many other girls. _'Not too hopeless then,'_ Samael commented to himself, almost missing what the girl said next.

"I still cannot believe the amount of girls who ignore his obvious flaws just because his face," she sneered, flipping her black hair from her eyes, with a short, severe shake of her head. "Even some of the Slytherin girls are obsessed with him! It's ridiculous, they all seem to forget that big law file against him from several women and men for indecent propriety and drunken disorderly."

Samael's ears perked at the girl's words, he had not heard of these misbehaviours before._ 'Surely a __scanda__l that big would have set the gossip columnists' Quick Quills burning?'_ Merlin knew that, that forsaken woman Rita Skeeter positively adored a chance to ruin a person's reputation, so why was Black's still solid? Potter or Dumbledore must have hushed it up,_ 'But honestly the depraved little man obviously still has something wrong with him if he is getting spiffy before noon,' _Lestrange thought, as he scrutinised the wizard sprawled across the flagstone floor, pale chest raised in goosebumps as it was braced against the cool air of the Charms classroom.

Turning his back slightly, so the others could not see the malicious grin which spread across his features, he levelled his wand at the slumbering man; noticing the unmistakable, thundering sound of Gryffindor footsteps in the distance as he quietly whispered out "_Aguamenti!_"

The spluttering Charms Professor awoke with a start; once alert eyes which had now faded into bleary ones (too damaged by years of alcohol abuse), stared at the end of a wand, which was slowly being holstered in a place the elder-wizard did not see. Calloused hands raised themselves, to rub furiously his face, still marred by yesterday's afternoon five o'clock shadow, before they blindly reached for the edge of the desk with familiarity which could only come from years of waking in the same position. Stumbling to his feet, Sirius Black narrowed his eyes at the child in front of him, brows furrowing closer together when he took in the Slytherin uniform on the boy, and then his eyes smouldered with ire once he realised that this _Snake_ must have been the owner of the wand he saw when he woke.

"What do you think you were doing!" Black thundered to the child in the most frightening voice he could imagine, scowling at the child when he showed no reaction him apart from an unimpressed raised eyebrow. He saw that Robert and that kid he met last night, waving at him as they took their seats, confusedly looking between himself and the Slytherin.

"I believe _Professor_, that I was waking a previously unconscious member of staff who was so inebriated by second lesson that he had passed out." the boy replied, his voice containing so much vitriol that he thought it almost unreal. "Now I would recommend that you cast a drying charm on yourself, sir," the boy advised, leaning heavily on his cane. "Otherwise, those who are not aware of your reputation may believe that you decided to resemble the Giant Squid for a day."

A silent snarl made its way to the elder-wizard's face when he heard an amused snort from the back of the room, and saw the smirk adoring the boy's face. And his glare only intensified when he saw the unforgettable pale-blonde hair – almost silver in its colour (which only came from those of Malfoy genes), on the head of a smug, pointed-chinned child.

"And what exactly would be my _reputation_, boy?" Black enquired venomously, smirking victoriously at the flinch the child expressed at the words, undoubtedly because he hadn't expected the professor to call him out on his previous statement. _'Cowardly Slytherins.' _he snickered silently; missing that the smirk growing on the child's face.

"I am of course referring to the law-suit against yourself, from various members of the public, in regards to drunken, indecent acts which have left you incarcerated on more than one occasion. I am also referring to your repeated determination to disgrace the Black name, despite already being removed from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, plus your tendency to consume too much alcohol than is healthy, thus resulting in your current state," were the unexpected words which came from the child's mouth, which were perfectly manipulated to give the impression that the receiver was some ignorant child. Redness, mottled with both anger and embarrassment flooded the Professor's cheeks, and by his gaping jaw, he assumed he must look like a gaping fish. _'Sneaky __Slytherin!'_

"H-How dare you!" Black finally demanded, unaware of the disbelieving, feared and disgusted looks being thrown his way by everyone in the class. "I demand that you take those words back right now!" the elder-wizard practically screamed at the child before him, with Robert and Ronald nodding vigorously in the background.

"Professor," the child stated calmly, shifting on his feet slightly to get his balance. "I believe that this matter should be discussed elsewhere and at a more convenient time. Many of the people in this room have come here to learn Charms, however are being hindered by this altercation. So if I could take my seat?" he asked, moving sideways onto the man, never removing his eyes off the furious form of Sirius Black. Who was inhaling deeply through his nose, in an obvious show of restraint.

"20 points from Slytherin for insulting a professor; it looks as if your House is in the negatives already is it not?" Black said sweetly, smiling an ugly smile at the child, who merely raised an eyebrow in impassivity.

"It would seem so, _Professor,_" the child replied simply, allowing nothing but the hatred towards the man before him to be in that one simple honorary, before walking swiftly towards the empty seat aside the Malfoy, who sneered at his second-cousin.

_'Stupid little Slytherin.'_ Black declared internally, sneering back at the blonde child. Sirius closed his eyes in irritation, he knew that any other indiscretion on his part would cause him to lose his job. The case from last year against him from Susanna Mulciber, about incorrectly teaching W_ingardium Leviosa _to the first-years because he was drunk, had just about cost him his career and the reputation of a Hogwarts Professor. And he just knew that if he did _anything _to disgruntle Malfoy Jr., then he might as well kiss his job goodbye. So with obvious effort, he calmed himself before even daring to face the class once more.

"Okay kids!" Black shouted loudly to the class, resulting in the Slytherin's disgust, the female Gryffindors shock and their male counterparts delight. "My name is Professor Sirius Black, but you can call me Sirius if you would like," he told them, waving his wand to dry himself off, clothe himself, and then summon the attendance register to himself. "As you may have already guessed, my subject is Charms. But before we all learn about this wonderful subject, I want you all to introduce yourselves. So I'll start, like I said earlier, my name is Sirius Black, I'm best-friends to James Potter and love dogs. Who'll go next?" he enquired, winking at a blushing girl to his left. _'Oh yeah, I've still got it.' _"How about you Robbie?" he grinned at the equally happy Gryffindor.

"My name's Robert Potter, you've most likely already heard of my family, what with my parents being two of the Professors here at Hogwarts, and my brother being the Boy-Who-Lived," the child stated, smiling cockily at the children around him. "However I really, really like pranks and I love dogs as well." _'Ah, he's definitely Prong's son.'_ Black thought lovingly, before he clapped his hands in a single, loud signal, calling for attention. "Good job, Robbie!" he praised obtrusively, smiling broadly at his Godson. "Now, you pick someone you want to know something about." he instructed; watching as the Potter scrutinised every face in the room intently, before narrowing upon the child that had woken him earlier.

"Lestrange." Robert said, raising his finger to point at the child in question; whose face remained blank at the stares he was receiving. _'Lestrange? Isn't that Bellatrix's husband's name? She had a kid? She's back in England?'_

"Good morning." the child, now known as Lestrange greeted, and an unsettling feeling growing in his stomach. "My name is Samael Cygnus Lestrange, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Lestrange and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black." _'What! How dare__ he say that, everyone __knows that the Black heir will be my__ child.'_ Sirius ranted inside his head, _'Just what has Bella being telling him to think he's entitled to my son's birthright?'_. "I have an interest in Defence Against The Dark Arts and a dislike of child abuse," he stated, emerald eyes glittering in anger, before they turned towards the Malfoy. "Draco?" he enquired softly.

"Hello. My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, and the scion to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. I have a strong importance for my family and a hatred towards child abuse. Nott?" the blonde child answered at an appropriate pace, giving the 'seat' to his fellow Slytherin, whilst glaring at the professor. _'What is this?'_ The black thought, as he regarded his two second-cousins, '_What's __the point of both saying that they hate child abuse? Is that meant to affect me in some way?'_

It carried on in that manner, with the Snakes following the Malfoy and Lestrange by giving their family name and their dislike for child abuse. The Slytherins gave sufficient information to the rest of the class, never passing onto a Gryffindor until a girl named Greengrass enquired after a Lion named Lavender Brown. Eventually the entire class had finished their introductions, however there was little time left for Black to actually teach anything useful to the students. Knowing this, the class was dismissed early whilst the Black retreated to behind his desk, intent on finding that bottle of unidentifiable alcohol which Lily had hidden earlier.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe that he managed to get those croissants!" Zabini paced furiously across the Slytherin boy's dorm room; not answering Parkinson's original question about the Transfiguration essay they were set earlier in the day.<p>

Other houses may have been shocked at the fact that females were allowed in the male dorms, however Slytherins did not necessarily abide by the conventional 'celibacy' rule – not if it could give them an advantage in a deal or agreement. Besides, since the publishing of the 'Fertility Potion for Men' homosexual relations had become more frequent (or more public depending on your view), and it wasn't as if these relations weren't happening behind closed doors anyway. However others with their simple-mindedness believed that the need to ban a gender from the opposite sex's dorm was highly necessary, because to them nothing could ever encourage same-sex partnerships.

The girl in question, crossed her arms across her chest, meeting the dark gaze of the Italian with her own unimpressed one. "Honestly Blaise? You didn't expect it? This is Samael Lestrange, I've only known him for a day and I know that he isn't one to back out on his word. He told Warrington he'd get him some croissants and he did," Parkinson replied, rising from one of the beds to flick her friend in the ear, to which he scowled at her in return.

"You can't honestly say you're impressed by this!" he fumed, daring her to contradict him.

She did.

"Of course I am, Blaise," she murmured softly, seeing that her friend was genuinely getting agitated, which usually never boded well with him. "He has been at Hogwarts a day and has already found how to enter the elusive Kitchens and leave with food. Added to that he played us well, put Black in his place and is planning havoc for the Gryffindors. How can you say you are not impressed?" she enquired, placing a placating hand on his upper arm. The Slytherin boy understood her action, and pointedly began to breathe deeply, forcefully calming himself.

"Fine. I can understand why he has gained respect, however I can't see why you're defending him so," Zabini retorted, casting an assessing eye upon his friend who sneered at him in indignation.

"I cannot even believe that you're implying _that _Blaise!" she screamed at him, whacking him hard on the arm. "I do not harbour any of those sort of feelings for him! I detest him with all my being!"

"And yet you defend him," her companion cheekily inserted, easily forgetting his anger at Lestrange with the opportunity to annoy his oldest friend.

"I am not defending him!" she hotly replied, fixing dagger-like eyes upon Blaise. "I am merely saying that Lestrange is impressive in his own right if one is easily impressionable or if one has just met him. However, I do not like his attitude one bit. He is arrogant, impertinent and believes that he is Draco's one and only confidant!" Pansy concluded, stamping her foot loudly against the flagstone flooring.

"We met him when he was seven, Pansy." Blaise place his hands on her arms, locking his warm eyes onto hers. "Lestrange has most likely known Draco since they were infants, they are cousins after all. Their relationship is just like ours, it's understandable that they're close." Pansy sighed softly, pulling on one of boy's arms until he followed her onto the bed. The Slytherin girl wormed her way onto Blaise's side, until there was practically no space between the two.

"I know you're right Blaise," she murmured, smiling slightly as her friend tucked a strand of her onyx hair behind her ear, whilst complaining about the short length of it. "It's just him. He's so..._difficult_. He seems so supercilious and talks _at _me, not _to _me. It's like I'm not even worth anything to him, as if my name and importance doesn't comprehend in his head. He told us we shouldn't judge anyone in fear of losing contacts but isn't that what he is doing to me?"

Blaise wrapped his arms around the smaller frame of his fellow Slytherin, pulling her face into the crook of his neck. "Pansy, shh, darling," he cooed quietly, "is the main reason you're upset because he doesn't like you?"

There was a few moments silence, in which Blaise Zabini patiently and expectantly waited until his female friend burst into tears. Their friendship was at first an arranged one, political and impassive at the most, until Blaise accidentally spelled his mother's favourite corset periwinkle whilst attempting to impress the girl and Pansy took the blame. Since then their relationship only grew, Blaise had held her after his mother had finished her rant, and she then hit him repeatedly over the head (as well as a four year old child could). Blaise had a way of always impassioning Pansy, and Pansy always had a way of calming Blaise down. They were opposites, and the best of friends.

"I know it sounds silly," she sniffled into his shoulder, which he was rubbing gently. "I was expecting the other Houses to be indifferent and cruel to me – us, but I just thought that the Snakes would understand! We're going through this together, I thought I knew who all the Slytherins would be, but then Lestrange just appeared out of the blue! I wasn't expecting him, I wasn't prepared!"

"Il mio tesoro, I don't think anyone was prepared for Samael Lestrange," the Italian quietly murmured, resorting to his native tongue which always seemed to calm her. "Even Draco doesn't seem to be able to handle him, and he is one of the most domineering people I've met." Pansy could only manage a wet-sounding chuckle at the Slytherin boy's remark. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Lestrange is going to make a change, whether it is small or large no-one knows – however I'm going with the latter – wouldn't it be best if we just go along with it? I do not believe we would ever survive the social suicide of challenging Lestrange, and I'm willing to follow him if you accompany me."

Pansy did not answer, only snuggled closer to her friend. "Will you not answer me, il mio tesoro? Lestrange, will be – _is _ridiculously strong, both magically and politically. I must admit that it has been stupid of me to have been this hostile to him, but my emotions have bested me as of late," he told her, letting his resentment show clearly about the mishap on his part. "I let our first meeting rule my decision, and I disliked being deceived by him. And because of this, I've been extremely hostile, and may have potentially ruined my chances at aligning myself with such a powerful ally."

The girl mumbled something against the Slytherin boy's shoulder, which Blaise interpreted as 'what are we going to do?' He smiled softly at the affection she was showing, not answering for the moment, just so he could relish in the attention that had seemed to be diminishing ever since they had met a certain blonde boy.

"We'll do the best thing we can do, Pansy," he told her gently, chocolate eyes burning with determination as he held his only friend close to his chest. She glanced into his eyes and nodded, snuggling into him as he lulled her to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>...has an extreme hatred towards myself and my son, Lander. I can speak for both Lander and I when I say that we are not aware of any discourse on our part which may have caused such dislike. Godwin must believe himself to have a plausible and strong reason however as he has cursed Lander. Nothing drastic, I can assure, just that an orb of what I can only assume is magic appears whenever Lander is feeling strong emotion.<em>

_It is nothing severe, and I find it quite inconceivable that Lander is not of the same mind as I, and yet, he believes that this 'curse' is somehow the apocalypse for him. Then again, Lander does have the tendency to be a smidgen over-dramatic, which (in turn) causes the curse to activate at least thrice a day. A vicious circle if you will. If it was not placed upon my son I would have perhaps enjoyed the effects it had upon those who valued their dramatic entrances._

_No-one, however, curses a Slytherin and escapes unscathed, so Godwin Harrowsson shall forthwith be known as an enemy to the Slytherin line, anyone of my descent seen affiliating with Godwin Harrowsson shall be punished accordingly. I seal this bond with three drops of blood from I, Elmer-Algar Slytherin III, Lord Slytherin._

_There __is__ one good thing to have come from this however, Lander is significantly more calmer than he previously was, in fear of becoming a Minstrel. His o__utward indifference is quite frightening at times however..._

Samael sighed, exhaling quietly through the nose. The journal of Slytherins, dating from Salazar himself, was becoming more intriguing as he progressed throughout its entirety. The habits associated with a Slytherin were present in Salazar and his offspring, however they were much more _diluted_, less poignant than the ones harboured inside Samael. Salazar spent most of his time with his Potions, his son and his Head of House duties, his 'mask' (which, upon entry to the Snake house everyone was expected to perfect) was shown only to Gryffindor and his supporters, not to everyone like the modern Snakes were told to.

_'It is to be expected though,__'_ Samael closed the journal softly, caressing the soft-leather with his too-pale fingers. _'In Salazar's time there were less people hostile towards himself, he associated himself with purely magical-beings who (on the majority) respected him. He had no need to wear a mask to __the outside world, unlike the__ Snakes of today. Am I correct in thinking that __t__his should be changed? The Snakes would like to escape the confines of the common room with true smiles on their faces, __would they not? Or would the notion be too alien for them? Yes, those of the Slytherin h__ouse are known to be haughty and cunning because they are the aptitudes which placed them in their house, but that should not prevent them from being happy. Or so one would assume. I know I would not like to reveal my happiness to anyone apart from those I__ now consider family, would the other Snakes feel the same?'_

Samael snorted softly to himself, sardonicism practically emanating from his every pore as he grasped the raven-head of his cane. _'In all honesty, does it matter what the other Snakes feel? If I__ can free them from the suppression they've been living, then who would they owe their loyalties to? It has been proven, (in both the Muggle and Magical world) that those who have "rescued" another gains their power. It has more value however in the Magica__l world however, as magic will hold those to their word – _that _is essentially what a life-debt is. So if I can get the Slytherins loyalties, well the mere thought is slightly delicious – is it not?_

The lone, flickering, candle astride the low, mahogany table caught the child's attention; it released a nearly non-audible 'hiss' before it burnt itself to the wick. The Lestrange sighed softly at the action, then smiled ever so slightly to himself as the candle re-lighted itself. _'Ah, the wonders of magic.'_ The raven-haired child discovered only a few hours previously that Hogwarts kept candles alight throughout the castle whenever it sensed a person was nearby, (much like the automatic-doors in the Muggle world). Samael delighted himself with silence of the common room, the area was not particularly noisy when filled to the brim (due to the nature of the Snakes), however once everyone had departed for Morpheus' embrace the common room was noiseless.

_'So it seems as if that music in Draco's Manor was because of__ an inherited magical curse,'_ the child's mind continued, sifting through memories to find the one of a much thinner and paler Samael reverently cupping an orb of pulsing magic. _'It says that the curse becomes active when feeling strong emotion, however __I can never recall it happening apart from that one single time in the Manor. Undoubtedly then, someone must have modified the curse, to what exact details I am not aware of yet; perhaps it is written in the diary somewhere? However, as much as I would lik__e to become aware of the facts, I cannot afford to waste time on something as trivial as magical music unless it can help me win over the elder-Slytherins, which I doubt it can.'_

He swept his gaze over the common room; absent-mindedly smoothing the aged, leather cover of his most precious possession. Intelligent eyes, lost in thought as they scanned the surroundings, not really noticing the minor details he discovered. Instead, ideas of possible-schemes involving Gryffindors in various degrees of punishment floated through his mind, being assessed thoroughly before either being discarded or filed away appropriately.

Sighing softly to himself, he rested the foot of his cane against the cold, stone flooring before testing his weight on said object; heaving himself to his feet once he was sure that the can could hold his weight. Gripping his cane in one hand, and the journal in his other he made his way towards the first-year boy's dorms, smiling softly as the candles throughout the corridor lighted themselves at his approach.

None of his peers were awake when he walked into the eerily-lit dorm room, _'Why should__ they, I doubt that it is even dawn yet,__'_ he reasoned, tightening his grip on the raven. A small moan came from Samael's right, he paused his progress towards his destination and saw that his pyjama-clad legs had brushed the side of the bed aside him. The hangings hadn't been closed completely, and a small gap between the drapes along with the dim light of the dorm, afforded Samael a view of the person in the bed. The raven-haired child glanced at its inhabitant, and saw his blonde companion '_Draco'_ tightly clutching a soft, emerald dragon to his chest, murmuring sleep-produced nothings into the dragon's horned head.

A strange sensation of warmth flooded the child's chest at the sight, whilst his lips unconsciously lifted at the corners. The Malfoy curled into himself, (so he was in a loose foetus position) and _nuzzled _his plushy. _'Oh the blackmail on this would be so beautiful,'_ he thought, yet despite that ever so tempting idea, he shifted so that the journal was held between his upper-arm and torso. Freeing his other hand, in order to close the few inches of Draco's curtains, which offered such a heart-warming view to the Lestrange heir.

With one last fond smile at the hidden blonde, he continued towards his bed attempting to ignore the insistent throbbing of his ankle. The sparse space which greeted him was oddly comforting to the boy; he liked thriftiness, indulgence was an acquired taste which he only had stomach enough for necessities. Approving of the impeccable bed, lone chest sitting alone in the corner, and the plain candelabra, he gently placed the journal atop the table aside the bed, secure in the knowledge that the near-1000 year old enchantments placed upon it would keep it safe.

He winced to himself as the pulsing throbs in his ankle only increased in both pace and strength; gritting his teeth when the pain seemed powerful _'too powerful'_, his upper-lip pulled back so much he appeared to be snarling, small pearly-white teeth showing. Leaning heavily against the column, he savagely threw the cane onto the covers, watching with satisfied eyes as it bounced once before landing askew on the duvet.

Agitatedly, the Lestrange hissed the spell all the new Snakes learnt which would close the drapes, and with a pained sigh he collapsed onto the bed, frantically rubbing his ankle to alleviate the ache. Hissing with displeasure, his eyes narrowed to slits as it soon became clear to the child that moving his foot more than a couple of degrees in any one direction caused the ache to intensify. _'Previous nights of assessing the injury have yet to produce this outcome,'_ he thought, still applying pressure to the inflamed ankle. _'Which can only imply that it has__ gotten worse...brilliant.'_ The child raged internally, yet willed himself to sleep, so he could escape the thralls of the Agea's Lupe; thoughts of contacting Narcissa, and needing to make plans dominating his mind as he quickly drifted into the welcoming arms of Morpheus.

Precious moments of Time's sand, offering such rare and peaceful moments, dissipated around the Lestrange. Not quite an hour had passed, and if it was possible Samael's bones felt heavier than they were when he was previously awake – as if they were laden with lead. Every movement brought a groan of displeasure from his very being, and hisses escaped his lips when he felt a hard object digging into his back. It took the Lestrange's sleep-addled brain a few moments to realise that, his cane was the offending object, which he had angrily deposited there in a fit of rage. _'Tantrum,'_ he corrected dryly. Stretching his arms out, delighting as his muscles uncoiled seemingly removing any tension which was there, Samael quickly divested himself of his clothing.

The other children seemed to have no problem with stripping in front of their peers; they had yet to question _'or perhaps realise,'_ that they had never seen his naked-form. The salvation and shortcoming of all Slytherins were their curious nature, so the child knew that when they finally did question him he had best have a plausible story; which was the only reason he had yet to dress in front of the others. As he told Draco all those days ago, he was not ashamed of his scar-laden body; it provided the fuel to the proverbial fire was a constant reminder to what he was striving for. Yet he couldn't give the other Snakes the feeble story that he gave Robert Potter,

_'They may not be the sharpest of athames, but they would most definitely see thr__ough that explanation straight away. After all, if one only took the time to look properly then they would see __that some of the scars are years old.' _No, the Lestrange would soon need to create a background for his scars, and more importantly the motives of the scar's loving contributor; as in no way was he going to approve of the implication that it was Bellatrix and Rodolphus which were the cause. No, Samael's loyalties were few and far in between, but they were unequivocally strong towards his adoptive parents, and to a further extent his pseudo-family. He doubted that many would survive his wrath towards anyone who insulted them. _'No,'_ he thought, a malicious smile spreading across his face at the direction of his thoughts. _'If anyone attempts anything, __they'll never see the light of day again.'_

Sounds of his fellow Snakes awakening caught Samael's attention, as he ran a hand down his form; smoothing any wrinkles that may have accumulated from his mechanic dressing. Content with his appearance, (and in knowing his infamous 'lightning' scar was hidden beneath the glamour Draco and himself had searched over a month previously), he raised his arm and pulled the curtain away. He was immediately met with a flurry of activity, and he could hardly withhold his unimpressed snort. Crabbe and Goyle were monotonously buttoning their shirts; identical gormless expressions on their faces, whilst Nott was groggily blinking at Samael, (most probably due to the noise of his curtains). Draco had secluded himself in the bathroom after hurriedly shoving his dragon under his pillow, whilst Zabini refused to leave the warmth of his bed, as he tightened his grip on the squirming form of..._'Parkinson? I was not expecting that.'_

He approached them slowly, smirking as he saw they had not yet noticed him. "Zabini," he greeted, amusement written clearly written across his face as the two forms froze on the bed; timidly raising their embarrassed eyes to meet his. "Parkinson." Samael inclined his head at the girl, who merely blinked slowly in return before offering a tentative smile.

_'Strange, I was sure she hated me. They were both nervous as well, what __are__ they planning?'_ he remarked to himself; whilst entering the common room. Stares from the other Snakes were obviously being thrown in his direction, and he only just restrained from glaring in return at them all. They were assessing him, the Lestrange realised belatedly, his ire increasing as he had to wait for the rest of the first-years because that was what the ridiculous 'Slytherin-laws' dictated. _'It's going to be a long day,'_

* * *

><p>The infamously feared 'Bat of the Dungeon' had to bite back a smile as he recalled the look of pure indignation on the Potter spawn's face, when he managed to deduct fifty points from the Lion House from one single lesson. Severus knew that he'd have the boy's parents, and probably Minerva and Albus annoyed at him, but he had heard of Black's attitude towards Samael and was righteously angry on the child's behalf. <em>'Besides, Potter had no re<em>_spect for the lesson, at least that Muggleborn – Granger, had the presence of mind and good grace to take notes.' _Severus also knew that the Gryffindors wouldn't be happy with their sudden decline in points, they would of course dislike him more because of it, but he knew that in the eyes of the Lions most of the blame would fall onto Robert Potter's shoulders.

Glancing at the miniature hourglass on his desk, he watched the final grains of sand fall to the heap on the bottom glass-bulb, before the objected magically inverted itself. He called a close to the lesson, (though not before assigning three-feet on the effects of Armadillo Bile when added to Glumbumble secretion) and instinctively knew that every single student in his 7th-year Ravenclaw class, _'p__er__haps, the only class of dunderheads worth teaching,'_ had (unsurprisingly) completed their Amortentia potions to perfection.

The Potions Master could only cast an appraising eye on the labelled vials, and muster nothing short of an O for them; he was proud of them (not that he would ever tell them), proud that they had listened to him and had enough intuition to complete the potion with half the instructions absent from the board. However, the smell of that certain potion in such a high concentration had Severus quickly longing for his lover, so as soon as his last student exited his classroom he strode towards the Headmaster's Office.

Considering how powerful and supposedly omniscient Albus Dumbledore is, Severus had pleasantly learned years previously that he was surprisingly easy to fool. Undoubtedly, the Headmaster was intelligent in his own right, however he had too much faith in those that he thought were 'Light'. So Severus being who he was, easily spun a tale of dining alone in his rooms due to an especially volatile and delicate potion, and that he could not be disturbed under any circumstances; it was ingenious if he did say so himself. However, afterwards Severus was then subjected to the damned unsettling glittering-blue gaze before being told to 'hurry along' as if he was some adorable first-year Hufflepuff. _'Outrageous!'_

Severus soon secluded himself in the shadow of the corridors outside the office, to cast the disillusionment charm and escape the castle, unnoticed by any other living being. His cottage upon arriving was unusually silent, and trepidation immediately wormed its way into his gut; Andras was usually having a good old chin-wag with his dad whilst they both read in the living-room. Normally that was. His wand sprang into his hand whilst he ducked his head into the sitting-room, however it was void of human life – in fact, it was completely dark as if none had entered it in a couple of hours.

Fear. He had not had the need to feel fear when he was child; apprehension certainly, but fear was never present. Beatings were a norm, he had no fear of them, and he most certainly did not fear for his mother, it was after all her decisions which caused him to be abused, so he never could find compassion for her. No, he only began to feel fear when he found friendship. Friendship with Lucius, Narcissa, the Lestranges, and his Lord; he feared the day if he ever lost these people as a friend. However the two people whose absence in his life, physically caused a burning in his chest made him fear the most. That perhaps one day they would realise they could do so much better than him, and leave him alone, bitter. _'B__roken__.__'_

Which was the reason he was indeed feeling fear, the all-encompassing fear which causes the simplest and instinctive actions such as breathing, to become the most difficult thing to ever perform. The type of fear, which blinds your vision with unbidden, terrifying images and causes all rational thoughts to escape your mind as quick as an amorous hummingbird dives. Sweating palms, clasped the wand tighter to himself, whilst his torturous fear likewise gripped him, and he desperately fought to keep calm. _'No-one but Narcissa and Lucius know of this place; Dumbledore could never have found it – the fidelius would prevent anyone from stu__mbling across it. Yes, they've probably just gone out...Andras did say he wanted some new pencils.'_

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he furthered his search towards the kitchen; his dread somewhat abated yet still present in his mind. Readying his wand, he slowly pushed the white-painted door open, however it faltered at the sight of Andras casting a worried glance at a shocked Remus, before breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his father. Severus couldn't help but mimic his son's actions; his traitorous, hammering heart only slowing at the sight of his family safe and sound.

_'Fine. They're fine, safe, fine. Oh Merlin.' _"What did you do?" the Potions Master asked his child; quirking an eyebrow at his son's confused expression. Severus frowned when it became evident that Andras did not have an answer, he sighed softly and crouched beside his lover and lightly shook his shoulder. "Okay then, how long has he been like this?" Severus attempted to gain information once more.

"Only a couple of minutes," was the distant reply.

"What happened before?"

"I found a book in the Library." Andras tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, a look of pure confusion on his face as he studied his father's face. "There wasn't a title so I opened it – I wasn't in the Dark section Father!" he diverted when he saw his father about to reprimand him. "It started talking about something called sexual reproduction," he continued in the tone only one could muster from childhood innocence. _'Oh Circe, please tell me he's__ not going to-'_ "so I asked dad how I was born, because he doesn't have a v-vageen-no-vagina, but a penis, and then this happened," Andras whined in confusion; indicating Remus' frozen form before frowning at his father; a pout playing on his lips. _'Oh Jes__us Merlin Christ.'_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm not going to make any excuses for the lateness of this chapter, but I will apologise – I am so sorry.

I thought that I'd get a smidgen of Andras in here, just a little bit of comic relief due to the severity of this chapter.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone who is supporting me in writing this, and a massive thanks to my darling beta **Zoey Rowan**.


	11. To Take A Smile

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

WARNING: Slight mention of gore towards the end :)

* * *

><p><span>To Take A Smile<span>

_Try to be blind, to be kind;_

_To be loud, to be proud;_

_Take a while, take this smile;_

_So nobody can catch you._

_Take This Smile – Moksha_

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday 4<em>_th__ September_

Albus Dumbledore's smile widened when he heard his office door close with a loud, reverberating 'thud'. Severus Snape always did amuse him, he was hard-working, driven, intelligent and powerful, but what the elder-wizard liked best of all were his reactions to affection. He hadn't realised why the youngest Potions Master had such a sour disposition until he used Legilimency on him all those years ago during his interview.

Oh, Dumbledore _now _knewthat Severus was abused as a child, however he was not privy to the knowledge whilst the man was a student; after all, Poppy had never told him. She must have at least suspected he was abused, but she had never reported her suspicions like she had all of the other half-blood and Muggleborn students – from every House apart from Slytherin.

He also knew that 15 years ago he wouldn't have even thought twice before dismissing Poppy Pompfrey from his employ. But the fact of the matter was, that it would be extremely difficult to find another Mediwitch who revered Dumbledore as much as Poppy did. Oh, Dumbledore knew that he shouldn't allow the witch to stay on, but in all honesty who was to stop him? He also knew that he had steadily grown much darker over the years, not in magic, no; he could hardly cast any 'Dark' curse without feeling like the trampling ground for a herd of Hippogriffs the next day. No, his magic was definitely Light, but his mind wasn't so stellar; his thoughts had become more _extreme _when it came to certain matters – most especially when it came to a certain Harry Potter.

The boy had escaped his grasp, and that angered him. It would have been simple to track the boy had he just simply _ran away_, but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn't due to a problem with his spell casting, because the _locus _spell was easy to use; if you had an object imbued with the magical signature of the person you were looking for (in this case a toy carousel found in the boy's cupb..._bedroom_), then it was the simplest thing to find your missing person, unless they were behind powerful wards.

_Magical _wards.

_Magic._

The boy somehow had contact with the Wizarding World, which made no sense as he had no access to any type of service which would deliver him to the Wizarding world. It infuriated him; he had pointedly ensured that no-one but him could enter practically half of Surrey, when he left the boy with the Muggles, so someone obviously must have picked the boy whilst he was wandering the streets. _'Or he's dead.'_ his mind traitorously supplied, _'n__ot that you'd particularly feel bad about it__,__' _which was undoubtedly true, and unequivocally showed how warped he had unwittingly become over the years.

The Ministry thought that Voldemort was dead, but Albus knew better, after all if he was truly gone then where was his body? _'It's better for everyone if Harry's dead though,'_ he reasoned with himself, _'This way he can't join Voldemort; maybe him running away and dying was his last defiance to the Wizarding World, ergo defiance to Voldemort. Prophecies are intricate after all.'_

Dumbledore was aware that his train of thought would cause most people to feel ill; after all, it probably would have made his younger self feel ill also. The wizard also knew that his outlook on the world had changed greatly since he started as Transfiguration Professor; it had become more selfish and uncaring. Even as a child, the old wizard knew that he was better than everybody else, he had the imagination, the innovation, the _will_ to change the world, and then he met Gellert. The German wizard had the best views upon life, working towards the Greater Good and ensuring that the 'pure' wizarding blood never got tainted with that of scum; Muggle scum that removed his happy, innocent Arianna from him, and turned her into the shell of the girl she once was...

Dumbledore pulled his thoughts away from the direction of his beloved sister, and focused himself instead upon his ex-lover. After knowing Gellert as well as he did, his younger self knew that he couldn't continue his relationship with him, _Not after he became a Dark Lord, his actions proved detrimental to our plans,'_ Dumbledore sighed lowly; remembering that his emotion-fuelled decision was the reason Gellert now resided in the prison he once owned and wasn't ash upon a pyre; Dumbledore regretted his actions now. '_Ministry workers seem to deem me unimpressive because I did not kill Gellert, I couldn't kill him at the time...I doubt I could presently, but I wish I could..._

_I've gone off topic...What was I think-oh yes. __Harry Potter__ has associates within Wizarding World; this was __not__ in the plan. Even I can hardly believe the lie I told James and Lily, how could they believe that the brat ran away from Petunia's to be with them and fight Slytherins? No, if I haven't found Harry Potter by now then he's most likely dead,' _he decided resolutely; stretching out a wrinkled hand to grasp his favourite, citrus-flavoured sweet, popped it into his mouth and began sucking it thoughtfully._ 'If anyone on the Light found him then they would have brought him straight to me, and if someone on the Dark found him...Well, it's best not to think of that; there is no need to spoil the lemon sherbets, is there?'_

The old wizard grimaced as he bit his tongue, (he had misjudged the softness of the sweet, and bit too early during his confectionery consumption). _'Muggles may be completely useless most of the time, but I'll give credit where credit is due – their confectionery production is truly magnificent,'_ the Headmaster thought idly; soothing his tongue by gingerly brushing it against the roof of his mouth. _'At least the first official school-day is over, and there have been no altercations. Of course it would have been a different matter if Harry Potter was alive...There is no real need for those tasks on the third-floor any longer, but I cannot ask the professors to remove them, no, that would cause suspicion, would it not?'_

The ageing wizard stared intently at one of the numerous objects which littered his desk; an orb, which was languidly emitting a glowing cyan pulse, whilst spinning at an incessant pace which contradicted its seeming lazy nature. Raising a wrinkled hand, he reverently caressed the wooden stand on which the orb sat. _'No it is best not to raise too many unwanted question, I'll just leave the traps be. If Voldemort does arrive (like I believe he will), then he will at least be impeded slightly by the tasks so I have enough time to arrive. I will __not__ let the my chance to finally defeat Voldemort slip through my fingers, Voldemort will die, I will ensure it with my entire being. He'll never be...'_

A shrill, near non-audible beep sounded throughout the room, causing the elder man to raise his head from where it lay in his hands. "_Revelare nomen,_" he incanted, whilst idly waving his hand in a shape which slightly resembled an intricate 'N'. As soon as that action had been performed, the words 'Sirius Black' appeared in wispy letters above his head; sighing softly to himself, he wearily muttered "_Aperire ostium_." A useful charm, derived from the parent '_Alohomara_', however unlike the general unlocking charm it would only unlock doors which had been warded by the caster themselves.

Only seconds passed between the act of Dumbledore unlocking his office door, did the erratic form of Sirius Black burst through it. Smiling a smile which presented only grandfatherly concern and the good intentions of a close friend, Dumbledore rose slowly from his seat; arms spread in a show of confusion and worry.

"Whatever is the matter my dear boy?" he enquired quickly; hurriedly waving the younger wizard towar one of the battered, paisley armchairs opposite. The Black only offered his employer an apologetic smile, before seating himself and returning his features to the annoyed scowl which they formed before.

"Forgive me, Albus," the man said; lowering his gaze from the Headmaster to his twiddling thumbs. "I'm sorry for intruding when it is so close to breakfast, but I'm just really really confused...And angry."

_'It doens't take much for that to happen nowadays, Sirius__,__' _was the unvocalized reply. "Do not fret so," Dumbledore soothed, whilst smiling reassuringly at the man. "Breakfast does not begin for a further fifteen minutes, if you need longer than that, then we can always recommence afterwards if you wish."

Sirius gave Dumbledore a grateful smile, before dragging a shaking hand through his ruffled hair. "It's that kid, Lestrange," the younger wizard began; his fists clenching in anger as he recalled the he earlier days events. "Did you know that Bellatrix and Rodolphus had a kid?" The elder wizard shook his head at the question; concern bubbling beneath the surface as he saw the Black crumple at his words. "I didn't either; if her kid is in first year then he must have been born the same year as Robbie, but I never saw him. Which doesn't make any sense, wouldn't she more than anyone parade her kid about?"

"What are you saying Sirius? That she stole him? I know she's not the nicest of women, but I highly doubt she would steal another person's child," Dumbledore intervened.

"I don't think she would either, it's just really strange."

"Perhaps she didn't want her child in danger? If I recall correctly, Aurors were constantly attempting to apprehend her and Rodolphus during the War despite them never being proven as Death Eaters." The younger wizard snorted in disbelief at this comment. "A mother's love for her child is the greatest of all powers, remember; Bellatrix Lestrange may be cruel to many, but I have no doubt she adores her son."

Under the weight of Dumbledore's wizened words and chiding eyes, Sirius Black reluctantly agreed with the Headmaster's belief. "Okay then, so we have a _theory_ to why we've never seen this kid before, but that doesn't explain his behaviour," the Black declared, his tone reminding the elder wizard of his Animagus form.

"Was he misbehaving?" Dumbledore questioned, whilst his eyes dimmed; he knew that if he complained to such influential Purebloods like the Lestranges, then it would only backfire upon him in the end.

"Yes – no, well – maybe. Urgh! I don't know!" he screamed with exasperation; fingers violently tugging upon his scraggly locks. "He _knew_ things about me; and talked to me as if I was a flobberworm! He knew about the court cases, and my disinheritance, _and _he called himself the Black Heir. But he can't be that, that right is reserved only for my child!"

_'For the love of all things Magical! How many times -'_ "Sirius," Dumbledore began kindly; easily hiding his irritation behind his charming smile. "We've been through this. Your mother disinherited you from the Black House when you were fourteen, you were not allowed any of the Black possessions apart from her town-house – Grimauld Place. She also allowed you to keep your surname as long as you did not disgrace it, which was what those court cases would have done if they were made public."

"I know that! But how did that affect my future children?" the man asked; frustration emanating from every pore of his being.

"Sirius!" Dumbledore said allowing a fraction of his annoyance to suitably cow the man before him, before continuing in a gentler tone. "Why are you not listening? You were _disinherited_, cut off from your line; this also applied to any children you may have sired. You were told this. The next in line for the Black title would have been Andromeda, however she was also disinherited, so the right then fell to Bellatrix."

Sirius Black paled with every word spoken to him, before his face flushed red; embarrassment, anger and horror fuelling him. "You mean to say that my child will have nothing!"

"My boy, if you just saved your money than your child would surely have enough money, plus Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore attempted to reason with him, but the Black didn't seem to hear him.

"Bellatrix has the title of Lady Black! Bellatrix the Bitch. Bellatrix! How can – just oh my Merlin! Just no – why?" Sirius Black moaned, burying his head in his hands. Bemoaning the sanity of the world, if Bellatrix Lestrange had the influence of two pureblood titles.

Dumbledore left the Black to his self-pity, to glance at the flashing cuboid-shaped object on his desk. It was made of the finest lead-glass crystal in the world, and was created by the best glazers in the entire world; currently the object showed a dark mist, flurrying throughout the entire structure. Quietly whispering "_Revelare tuum secreta._" Dumbledore watched intently, as the unnatural miasma seemed to slowly dissipate, and reveal a low-lit image of an abandoned room supported with intricately-carved stone columns.

"Albus, there was something else he did," the voice of Sirius Black interrupted, and Dumbledore quickly dispelled the scene and returned his gaze to the Black. "He got the other Slytherins to say they didn't like child abuse."

"You're saying that an eleven year old child forced other students to express their dislike of child abuse?" the Headmaster enquired, only restraining himself from scoffing at the younger man. "My boy that is absurd. Everyone knows that Slytherins are notorious for their opinions of children, they find them precious, and that none should be harmed."

"No, you don't understand!" Sirius Black exclaimed; blushing with embarrassment as Dumbledore non-audibly reprimanded him. "Sorry sir. What I mean is that they seemed to direct it at me, as if I had somehow condoned child abuse in some form, it was just really...unnerving."

_'That is a smidgen worrisome, someone with Lestrange's connections __could__ (with some digging) discover how Harry was raised. I'll have to keep an eye out for him.' _"I'm sure the Slytherins were just trying to stop the rest of the class discovering anything about them, Lestrange began it, did he not?" Dumbledore reasoned with the other man, who began to relax at his reassurances and offered a nod in agreement. "Well then, it's quite obvious then!" Dumbledore declared cheerfully, to Sirius' bewildered expression. "The other children saw how Lestrange effectively revealed little of himself and just followed his example, there was nothing to worry about, my dear boy."

Sirius grinned sheepishly at his employer, "I see that now Albus, I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Nonsense!" the wizard said; beaming happily at the Black. "I'm here to be your voice of reason Sirius; I'll always be here for you." The younger man locked his watering eyes onto the merrily twinkling ones of Dumbledore. "Now, I do think it is time for breakfast; all the students must be proving a riot for Minerva because of the delay."

"Oh, I'm sorry Albus!" cried Sirius; bowing his head in shame as he rose from the armchair.

"Poppycock, my dear boy, a smidgen of patience will do the whole world good. Patience is a virtue after all, and good things come to those who wait. In this case: the House Elves' culinary skills." Sirius grinned at the older wizard, as they both happily engaged in conversation whilst exiting the office.

* * *

><p>"That Quirrel is a joke!" Draco angrily declared, as he stepped from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom; uncaring that the man in question could hear every word he said. "He knows little to nothing about anything! I could have learnt more from a toddler; I should write Father and complain, surely no-one would actually want him to teach?" the blonde questioned incredulously, much to Samael's amusement.<p>

"What is so amusing Samael?" the irritated blonde demanded, whilst narrowing his eyes upon the smirking form of the Lestrange. "Do you find the lack of decent education here funny? Because I for one – don't!"

"Yes, yes Draco, I am aware of your opinion, however there is something _more_ about Quirrel, something we are all missing," came the reply, as the child wafted the scent of garlic away from himself.

"Yes something delusional and insane, as if we would believe that he defeated a Vampire. He couldn't defeat a fly," Draco retorted, disdain practically dripping from his tongue.

"Tch," Samael sounded, before poking the blonde child in the side with his cane. "You are underestimating people again just like the others did towards 'Sammy', how do you know that he has not defeated a Vampire; appearances are deceiving."

"You don't actually think he's a good teacher?"

"Oh, Merlin no. He is absolutely horrendous, he is too..._frightened_," the raven-haired child informed his companion. "Why do you think that is? There is not anything to be afraid of at Hogwarts, except the Headmaster. However it is extremely unlikely that he would be threatening Quirrel."

"Perhaps he discovered something in Albania?" came the blonde's suggestion, whilst looking thoroughly captivated with Samael's thought-process. "That's where Severus told me _He_ went, and isn't Albania where-"

"Bella and Rodolphus are searching! Yes, I suppose that _would_ make sense," the Lestrange murmured; pausing to stand in the middle of an empty corridor, a small confused frown on his face as he idly traced the direction of a particularly long crack in the brick-work.

"But?" the blonde urged; smiling encouragingly at his companion.

"I do not think he is actually scared. It is almost _too_ much; I could swear that he is exaggerating his nature. In Hogwarts: A History, it says that he was one of the most intelligent students to ever wander Hogwarts halls, and an extremely skilled public speaker when needed to be. So either the person teaching us is masquerading as Quirrel, or Quirrel is hiding something. As I for one, do not for one second believe that someone as informed as Quirrel would ever stumble into a Vampire coven, nor know how _not_ to deal with one."

"I guess that makes sense," Draco admitted; curiosity shining in his eyes. "What do you think it is he's hiding then? Do you think he's made contact with Our-" Samael poked Draco in the side once again, this time much more harshly. "Sorry Samael; I have to know it now though!" he declared; pouting at the smirk Samael sent at him.

"He was shaking during the lesson," Samael commented; his smirk turning into a fond smile as he saw Draco sneer at his words. "His hand, Draco. He was clenching and shaking it as if it was painful."

Instantly the sneer disappeared from the blonde's face, to be replaced with an inquisitive frown. "The Dark Mark?"

"No," Samael responded, shaking his head in agreement with his words. "It was the wrong arm, it was his right, and it was not his forearm either, it looked as if it was his palm. It's all quite strange." Samael absently rubbed his forehead just where his scar was hidden, and pulled away from the wall; continuing his journey towards the Great Hall, he smiled as he heard his companion quickly follow..

"A scar perhaps? I didn't see one, but then again, I suppose he could have used a glamour," the blonde mused, before mock-glaring at the Lestrange. "You've interested me now, Samael; now we definitely have to discover what it is he's hiding. You've turned me into a mess, I need to know!"

Samael merely chuckled quietly at Draco; offering him a slight upturning of the lips. "Ah, yes. Please accept my utmost, sincere apologies, Lord Malfoy. It was not my intention to rile you up so, I will gladly accept any punishment you deem fit," the Lestrange dead-panned; bowing shallowly at the waist to the child, who was attempting to silence the laughter which was threatening to escape his throat.

"Well then boy," Draco began in his haughtiest voice, not missing the fearful sheen that entered Samael's eyes before they were replaced with indifference. _'I'm not __them__,__ Samael, I won't hurt you.'_ the blonde thought passionately, his happy demeanour disappearing as heartache settled in his chest. "For your punishment, I demand you to get into that Hall and eat your lunch!"

"Of course Lord Malfoy, I will do whatever it takes to regain your favour," Samael lowly intoned, whilst attempting to bow once more, however a firm grip around his arm stopped him. Regaining his footing, Samael's curious emerald orbs met Draco's serious silver ones.

"You do know that I will never make you do anything you're uncomfortable with," the Malfoy said, whilst relaxing his grip around Samael's arm, and gently rubbing his thumb into the tender flesh. "I want to – no, what I'm trying to say Samael is that I'm always going to be here for you. If you need someone to talk to, rant at, duel with. I'm here... For you." Draco mumbled something inaudible under his breath, flushed bright red and quickly sped towards the Great Hall, leaving a stunned, wide-eyed Samael in his wake.

_'Oh Merlin, why did I just do that? I just made an utter fool out of myself, he's going to tease me mercilessly for days, why did I forget the 3 S's, that's __my__ code! How could I forget them? Just why? oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin. I've got another two lessons with him, __and__ the dormitories. Morganna's tits! What was I thinking of? Just...'_

"Hey, are you okay Draco?" a smooth voice interrupted the Malfoy's derailed train of thought, and he slowly raised his eyes to meet the concerned gazes of Zabini and Parkinson. Internally berating himself for allowing others to see his agitated state, the blonde struggled to force a frigid smile upon his face.

"Yes I am doing well, thank you for asking," he answered coldly, hoping that the other two would accept it at that.

They did.

He forced himself to consume a cold chicken sandwich, and keep all emotion from his face; it wouldn't do for any Slytherins to find a weakness, otherwise it would be like vultures to a carcass. A frenzy. And as much as he tried to keep all of his thoughts away from his companion, they inevitably centred back upon him, as if Samael was the Earth and he the Moon. A gravitational pull connecting the two. _'Why hasn't Samael arrived yet? I told him to eat lunch – no don't think of that. But what if some Gryffindors have found him? I shouldn't have left him alone, it's too dangerous for a lone Slytherin in the corridors. Sure he is powerful, but could he handle a group of apes with a wand? I promised myself all those weeks ago that I would make him better, what if I have just thrown him to the wolves? Well, lions in this case-'_

"Oh, Lestrange would you like this seat?" Draco heard Parkinson ask pleasantly, _'Pleasantly? Since when is Parkinson plea- Samael!' _the blonde's head quickly shot up, to see the female Snake rising from her own place opposite Draco, and offer it to the neutral-faced boy. He didn't see any injuries, but that meant nothing to the blonde, he knew that the other boy was good at concealing pain.

Draco saw Samael narrow his eyes suspiciously upon the girl, his stance almost aggressive as he stared her down. "Why?" he questioned, casting a dark look at Zabini as he nodded at Parkinson. "What is in it for you?" The girl returned her gaze to Samael's and smiled stiffly, refusing to show any fear to the boy.

"Your good favour," came her reply; smiling triumphantly when she saw the Lestrange's eyes widen slightly in shock. _'Smart Parkinson, very smart.'_ Draco thought; watching avidly as Samael locked his eyes intently onto hers, and tilted his head to the side, as if he was Potioneer assessing a new ingredient and the new angle would help him to discover an unknown use of it.

The blonde examined the other inhabitants of the Hall. Most of the elder-Slytherins were inconspicuously watching the interaction, the Gryffindors were glaring suspiciously, whilst the Hufflepuffs were curiously casting glances, and the Ravenclaws were openly staring with varying states of understanding. Draco also saw that the Professors were also following the movements of the two Snakes, however he also saw that only Severus and Quirrel fully understood what was happening. _'It is no surprise if Samael's theory is correct, if Quirrel is more than he appears then he would of course know about Slytherin politics and power-play.'_

"Thank you Parkinson," Samael replied, and to the others in the Hall he most likely sounded grateful. But to those who knew the importance of what was happening, heard the approval in his voice, and saw the calculative essence to the genial smile sent her way.

Smiling at the boy, Parkinson smoothly stepped away from the bench and moved to sit in the empty space beside Zabini, who whispered something in her ear. Heart thudding quickly in his chest, Draco chanced a glance at his companion who was now seated opposite him, and saw that he was staring at him, with eyes that seemed to be concerned. _'Wishful thinking, Draco,' _he reprimanded himself.

Clearing his throat softly, the Malfoy pushed a plate of sandwiches towards the silent child, whilst offering a confident grin which did not reflect his emotions in anyway shape or form. "Eat some please Samael," he murmured softly, before grabbing an apple. "They're your favourite, salad with lots of butter."

Samael's darkened eyes never left Draco's as the child lifted the triangular pieces of food, and transferred them to his plate, before cutting into them with his cutlery. "I still don't know how you can just eat salad in a sandwich, surely you need _something_ else in it," the blonde wondered aloud; casting said sandwiches a distrustful look, whilst biting into his apple.

"Well I do not know how you can just eat an apple by itself, surely you need a satsuma or kiwi with it, otherwise it is just boring," came Samael's teasing reply, his eyes brightening as the two companions returned to their normal bantering interaction. After a while of eating, casually teasing one another, and establishing that the next lesson was Potions, Samael and Draco finally resorted to introducing others into their conversation.

_'If I have __to listen about Zabini's mother__one__ more time I swear that I will seriously harm someone,' _Draco promised to himself, before he caught Samael's eyes and rolled his own skywards in exasperation. In doing so he caught sight of a white blur, sweeping in from the open windows. "That's a beautiful bird," the blonde commented; Samael turned to see where Draco was looking and saw a snowy owl soaring over towards the Slytherin table, however not before screeching at the Head Table. "She's coming this way Samael, is she yours?"

The Lestrange didn't answer his companion, but instead watched the oncoming avian with awe

(which was only barely hidden beneath his mask) and a small smile. _'I'm not jealous of a bird right?' _the blonde thought with horror, however he couldn't shake off the agitation he felt towards the owl from her easily making Samael smile. _'Urgh! What's happening to me! Jealous of a ruddy bird, all the Malfoys must be looking down upon me in shame.'_

"Who is it from?" Zabini asked the Lestrange, and Draco saw Samael gently stroke a finger down her fluffed head. The owl couldn't have been more than a year old, as the blonde could see that she still had her beak feathers, which were uplifted to the sky as she emitted what could only be described as a delighted bark at Samael.

"It is from my father," the Lestrange replied, and Draco could almost feel his ears perk at the words. _'What if they've made contact!' _Draco exalted internally, and he was nearly so lost in excitement that he almost missed Samael whisper a spell, which he immediately recognised as '_patefacio cuti_s' from the effects it had upon Samael – a small pinprick upon his index-finger.

"Why does your father need to ward your mail?" the Italian enquired; scowling when Parkinson jabbed him in the side with her elbow. Samael cut a quick glance at Draco, before nodding to himself in resolution. _'What is he planning? He only gets that look when he's planning something.' _the blonde thought with a mix of anticipation and suspicion.

"Because he knows the importance of it, he is ensuring that any personal information does not fall into the wrong hands again," the Lestrange smoothly informed him, (and most of the listening Snakes in the vicinity), before sending a short-lived smirk in Draco's direction.

"Again?" a familiar voice questioned, and Draco quickly identified the speaker as Warrington, the third-year who wanted chocolate croissants from Samael. "Did someone have information on your parents?"

"I guess you could say that, when I was a younger Muggles took me," the raven-haired child simply said, causing Draco to stare at the other in shock. _'He's __telling__ others this? Why? How is this going to help him?'_

"Muggles!" Pakinson exclaimed, genuinely looking concerned for the boy she seemingly despised only the day prior. "How dreadful! How are you? How did it happen?" she asked him hurriedly, and the Malfoy couldn't withhold the snort which escaped him. _'How is he? How do you think he is, silly girl? He's practically radiating bad vibes here!'_

"Yes Muggles took me, however someone quite strong in magic must have helped them," he answered her, and suddenly all of the Snakes had focused their attentions onto the Lestrange, they were riveted with every word he said. _'The blackmailing opportunity this presents would of course cause most Slytherins worth their brimstone to salivate.'_

"There were powerful wards around the building that prevented any Witch or Wizard from locating me, so when my parents attempted the locating spell and there was no reply, they assumed I was lost forever. They did of course try their best to discover any clues that would lead to my whereabouts, however there were none to be found," he stated, however not in a morose tone like one would expect one to tell a sob-story, but in a factual, indifferent one, as if one were reading on of the Minister's speeches.

"How did you then? Escape I mean, how did you escape?" Warrington asked the question that was hanging on all of the Snake's tongues.

"It was quite simple." Samael stared at the Head Table, and the tension mounting around the Slytherin table, became so strong that it was almost palpable. "They eventually grew bored with me, and they left me in an alleyway, starved and beaten to the brink of death. However as luck would have it, that I had left the reach of the wards and someone had sent me a letter,"

"Who?"

"Severus Snape," came the reply, but not from Samael like the Snakes were expecting, but from Draco himself. And instantaneously all 117 pairs of eyes swirled to lock onto the _'Weary? What did Andras do?' _onyx ones of their Head of House, who merely rose an eyebrow in inquisition at them.

"It all sounds terribly far-fetched to me," a pompous voice interrupted, causing Draco to narrow his eyes in fury on Edmund Lambert. "I mean, who could believe such a tall story? You were captured by Muggles, beaten by them, and then rescued by our resident Potions Master. Honestly, you must think us all imbeciles."

Silver eyes burned brighter, as he saw several of the Snakes nod along to his words. "You dare to say he is lying?" Draco breathed harshly, as he quickly began clenching his fists in anger. "Why do you think that Lord and Lady Lestrange left the country all those years ago? On a whim, perhaps? It is you who is imbecilic, if you do _not_ believe Samael. The Lestranges left because they thought all hope was gone; however if your opinion is to go by, then I'm also sure his cane is merely for decorative purposes." the blonde sneered at the seventeen year old; pulling all of the Malfoy superiority he had inherited into being.

"What does it take to make your idiotic brain comprehend the truth? My pensieve memories of when he was lying in my Manor's medical room, bruised, scarred and ghostly-pale? Or perhaps his medical records, that detail every injury he had sustained from the ten years at the hands of those beastly creatures? Or shall I just organise a little day-trip to visit those worthless Muggles, and make them reveal their sins? _Or_, do you want to forget everything you just said, and _not _fall into a disagreement with the Malfoy, Lestrange and Black family? Well? Which is it to be Lambert?" he asked the paling seventh-year, who was hurriedly attempting to force his features into something other than shock.

"T-Ten years?" a stuttering voice questioned, and Draco ripped his eyes away from Lambert's trembling form, to focus upon the horrified face of Pansy Parkinson. _'She looks as if she's going to cry.'_ he mused, whilst nodding to her, causing her to viciously dig the heel of her palms into her eyes.

And in his peripheral vision, he could see the small satisfied smirk on Samael's face as he brushed some invisible lint from his uniform. _'Well done Samael,'_ Draco quipped sarcastically to himself, glancing at all the down-trodden Snakes. _'You've broken them all.'_

* * *

><p><em>Saturday 19<em>_th__ October_

The weeks quickly flew by, as the moderate temperatures of September bled into the frigid atmosphere of October. The leaves which decorated the trees in the Forbidden Forest browned and yellowed into the autumnal tones that screamed the oncoming approach of winter and its barren landscapes.

Similarly to the environment outside the castle, the workings of the Slytherin House had also gradually changed. Lambert was slowly losing his control over the other Snakes, as they themselves had a firm grip upon many of his misgivings, (such as him using his parents name to place bets with Ludo Bagman) which had been given to them courteously by an anonymous source, however many of them suspected it to be the first-years Draco Malfoy and Samael Lestrange.

Due to this many assessing glances had been sent their way, Malfoy's position in society alongside his many connections meant he was met with wary respect, meanwhile Samael Lestrange's reputation of using the Kitchens as a source of good favour, his rumoured proficiency in both written and practical Magical assessments, and the open knowledge (in the Snake House) of him being isolated from the Magical world for ten years, caused him to be viewed with hungry, power-lust filled gazes and the growing feeling of veneration.

This change both amused and pleased Samael Lestrange to no end, and alongside a pair of soft-leather, rocker-bottom shoes and a lace-up leg brace sent to him from Narcissa, the pain he had been experiencing as of late had decreased in both intensity and frequency, much to his delight. If anyone had noticed a change to his attitude lately, they had yet to say, however he had caught Severus' eyes upon him more than once.

Currently the two first-year Slytherins were walking towards the Quidditch Pitch for their first flying lesson, which would have been exciting for most of them, if not for one minor detail. Madam Hooch was currently holed up in the Hospital Wing due to a broken leg, so the infamously prejudiced James Potter had offered to take the lesson, much to the Slytherin's disgust.

The obscenely happy man, kitted out in the latest release of Quality Quidditch's Seeker robes, (which according to Pansy Parkinson 'did nothing to flatter his figure') joyously embraced his son, and ruffled his hair affectionately. Emerald eyes burned with ferocity as Samael took in the scene (which was undoubtedly a common one, from the way the younger Potter sent the elder an exasperated grin at his actions), and the Lestrange had a definite heavier weight to his steps as he approached the rest of the class.

"Will you be okay?" Draco asked him warily; nervously eyeing the Lestrange's stance of aggression, and wincing as those furious emerald orbs met his own. The blond watched as his raven-haired companion pointedly sucked on the inside of his jaw, and clenched his eyes in frustration.

"Like I said a while ago Draco, I have yet to curse any of them; I am _fine_," replied the younger wizard, whilst absently listening to Potter's instructions, and fulfilling them perfectly (which could be seen from the broom leaping straight into his hand). The blonde child didn't believe his companion one bit, Samael was _not_ fine, several reasons caused this conclusion, the most prominent being that he didn't smirk when he was the first to achieve a Professor's intentions like he would usually.

"Samael," the Malfoy whispered softly, after calling his own Hogwarts given broom into his hand. "That was only a lesson with Black, but Potter is your-"

"Draco!" Samael hissed sharply, and several heads turned to their direction, watching the two with undisguised curiosity. "I said leave it; I am _fine_!" And with those final words, the Lestrange turned his back upon the blonde and sneered at the elder and younger Potter's antics of apparently showing how one should perfect hovering.

"Now when I say 'go' I want you all to kick off from the ground," James Potter instructed; and Draco nervously saw Samael shrink his cane and place it into one of robe pockets. _'Isn't that a fourth year charm?'_ the blonde thought with fond incredulity, before his attention was caught by teacher once more."Just like Robert and I showed you just then, okay now, 1 – 2 – BOY!" Potter bellowed angrily; Neville Longbottom had left the ground early, and it was becoming disturbingly clear that he had not one clue of how to actually steer a broom.

_'If he falls from that height, it will hurt,'_ the blonde thought with a small smirk, and looking sideways he could see an identical smirk on Samael's face. _'I can hardly wait.' _Draco's satisfaction didn't take long to be granted, as not even a minute later, and 16 feet above the earth, Neville Longbottom came hurtling back to the ground with a sickening thud.

Immediately Potter strode over towards the fallen Gryffindor, (who was moaning softly in pain) with an expression that was quite similar to Samael's not only minutes prior. _'Not that __I'll ever tell him that, no, I __quite like my life.' _"What were you doing, Longbottom?" Potter raged at the shaking boy. "Thought you could impress us all with your _fabulous_ skills to make up for you being a disgrace to the Gryffindor name? You've just wasted the rest of the class time, because now I have to take you to the Hospital Wing!" And with those words, he roughly pulled the Longbottom heir to his feet, mindless to the young wizard cradling his left arm close to his chest, and dragged him towards the castle.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining," Draco drawled out, his smirk only increasing in strength with the moans of displeasure the ruby half of the class emitted at the sound of his voice. "I thought he would at least show Longbottom a bit of care, considering he had just fallen from a great height (which was by the way also very nice to watch). Honestly though, I have no idea how James Potter even managed to teach at this school, someone once told me it was because of his looks but I think I can speak on behalf of most of us here and say that he isn't exactly pleasing to the eye, is he? Well, at least I know for certain that it wasn't because of his good nature, I do believe that my father could fire him for abuse towards a child. What do you think Pothead? Is it a good idea?" The Malfoy sauntered from his place in the line towards the red-faced younger Potter, smirking even wider as he saw several of the Lions uncertain looks passing between the Potter and him.

"Shut it Malfoy! Your dad is a filthy, little, snake!" Weasley screamed out, defending his friend with passion.

"Really?" Draco questioned, eyes round in faux-shock as he glanced confusingly around the class. "I had no idea my father was reptile, or maybe it's just that your family cannot afford to get your head examined; I heard that insanity was hereditary, I wouldn't be surprised if you went out and murdered and raped a woman just like your great-grandfather," the blonde sneered with hatred; glaring at the red-headed boy.

The gangly child's face filled with blood, and as he was unable to deny the accusations he screamed out. "Well you would know all about insanity wouldn't you, what with your connections with You-Know-Who!"

"I cannot say that I know him personally; besides he is dead. Secretly hoping he's alive are you Weasley? Well_ I_ certainly was _not_ expecting that," he answered with as much innocence he could muster to his face, internally beaming as the boy spluttered in rage. _'What's that glittering down there?'_ "Oh, a Remembrall, whose is it?" he murmured quietly to himself, whilst scooping the clear crystal ball into his hand.

"Give that back Malfoy!" Robert Potter demanded roughly, attempting to lunge at the taller boy, however landed in a heap on the ground as he tripped over his broom. _'How pathetic,__'_ the blonde thought, eyeing the sprawled mass with distaste. "Give that back or I'll get you expelled!"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. "You honestly think that you have more influence than my parents, more support than my family, and more money than me?" he enquired lightly, "Why do you want it so desperately anyway? Did your mummy and daddy give it to you, in hope that you would actually remember manners and etiquette?" he taunted, grabbing the boy's broom and easily launching into the sky. "Come get it then, Pothead."

Not to be showed up by a Malfoy, and his pride and reputation as a Potter to defend, the red-head violently snatched the broom out of Weasley's hands and followed after the laughing blonde. _'Oh, this was too easy, as soon as he's near enough we'll see just how good his so-called seeker skills are,' _ Draco thought happily, pausing near twenty feet above the ground to watch the approaching boy, whose hair was a red beacon against the light blue sky.

Now Draco was expecting many things from this encounter, such as Robert Potter's scathing remarks and demands, his own satisfaction, and the joy of the Potter making (even more) of a fool of himself; what he was notexpecting however, was the unmistakable form of Samael flying quite capablytowards the two verbally sparring boys. _'As if he's been flying for years.'_

"What are you doing here Lestrange!" Potter Jr., demanded irately, straining forward on his broom to reach Draco.

The boy in question sneered at the boy, and steered his broom close enough to the Malfoy, so he could hover beside him. "Well in case it had escaped your memory, this is a flying lesson, and I surprisingly enough am _flying_," the raven-haired child answered condescendingly; sneering as the other boy choked at his words.

"You said you had never flown before!" he shouted accusingly at the Lestrange, glaring as the raven-haired child only gave an acknowledging tilt to his head. "You can't be this good, especially since you're a cripple!"

_'That bastard!'_ Draco thought with rage, whilst checking his face was schooled into a distasteful sneer. "Ever heard of natural talent, Pothead? Well," he paused, casting an unimpressed look down the other's form. "I suppose you'll never know it, let alone experience it."

"I'll have you know, that I'm the best Seeker since 1976, and I'm gonna be the youngest Seeker in a century!" the boy boastfully shot back, eyeing the two Slytherins with and aura that practically radiated smugness.

"Draco," Samael whispered lowly, so only the blonde could hear him. The Malfoy turned to him, and his eyes widened, Samael had the most insane grin on his face which the boy had only ever seen in photos of the Dark Lord. _'Oh Merlin, what is he so happy about?'_ "Pretend to throw it," he said simply, though to the Malfoy it felt like a command. "Watch him fall, and make such a pretty mess on the ground," he murmured excitedly, and his expression could only be described as 'intoxicated' as the blonde suppressed a shudder.

"Oh yes," Draco agreed, _'Robert Potter bleeding, about to die, I've waited so long for this.'_ a carcharodon smile stretched across his face. "Hey Potter! Let's see how good you really are!" the blonde called, pulling his arm back as if he was going to slog the magical object into the sun, laughing hysterically with Samael as Potter gasped and dropped into a dive.

"Oh that's too good!" Samael exclaimed, his eyes glittering with glee as Robert Potter's screams could be heard as he hurtled into the ground. "Oh yes, a chance to gain another favour (possibly two) and hurt a Potter, can my day get any better?" the Lestrange excitedly murmured so quietly to himself, that the blonde had to strain to hear him. "Oh, he survived, that's a shame." the boy pouted to himself, _'Has he ever pouted before? This Samael is strange, fun, bloodthirsty, what happened?'_

"Why did you want me to pretend to throw it?" the blonde asked, as he pointed his broom downwards into a gentle descent, watching as Samael copied his movement and followed afterwards. "I mean apart from the obvious reason," he clarified, waving toward the boy who was loudly bemoaning his fate. "I know you had another reason."

Samael beamed at him proudly, _'He is still abnormally happy,'_. "You're right of course Draco, but that Remembrall isn't Potter's, it's Longbottom's," Samael explained, _'I should have guessed, Longbottom has always had trouble remembering things.'_

"You want to gain a favour from Longbottom?" Draco asked uncertainly, _'Sure he's got money, but he's not exactly going to help much.'_ he thought, attempting to figure out exactly what his companion was thinking, but not coming to any reasonable conclusion.

"That's right Draco, he has some a part in my future plans," Samael replied mysteriously, before hovering hovering his broom a foot above the ground to return his cane to it normal dimensions. "However I am also going to gain another connection in the process." Draco dismounted his broom, and began walking alongside his companion with confusion.

Samael paused and quietly asked for the magical object, which Draco freely handed over, and saw it being placed in one of the Lestrange's voluminous pockets. "Who?" he asked, but Samael was already approaching the Lions with an amiable smile on his lips. _'Straight into the Lions Den, what is he thinking? I sincerely hope this isn't the day he's gone insane,'_ he thought desperately, standing alone as he watched his companion stop by the hunched form of the injured Gryffindor.

"What...do...you...want?" the red-head demanded with pain, eyeing the seemingly happy Slytherin with distrust. Samael rested his 'good' leg onto the ground, steadied himself with his cane, and pressed his index finger into a long gash he could see through the boy's ripped clothing. Screaming in pain, Robert limply thrashed his arms, causing Samael's smile to widen and increase the pressure of his finger.

"I want to take your smile away," the raven-haired child hissed out, as glassy hazel-eyes locked upon his own darkened verdant ones. Unfortunately the Potter's screams brought unwanted attention, as Weasley came barrelling towards the two, a snarl fixed upon his face as he glared at Samael. The Lestrange smoothly stood, and (with a placating smile), moved away. "I was just checking his wounds, Weasel, do not worry."

"You! You probably cursed him!" he roared, kneeling by his friend's side and asking him if he was in pain. _'And Weasel takes the award for being a world class idiot,'_Draco snorted to himself, _'How does it look like Potter's __not__ in pain.'_

"Of course I cursed him," Samael sneered, as the entire class gasped in shock. _'Idiots.'_ "As obviously I can perform wandless and non-verbal magic at age elven. Honestly Weasel, please do pull your head from your ridiculous stories and focus on reality, oh, and please cease your mindless accusations, they do grow tiring after a while."

Ronald Weasley grew red in rage as he saw the class agree with the Slytherin's sentiments, and pointed a finger at the Lestrange. "You and Malfoy are the reason he's hurt anyway, you must have made him fall!" _'Does he ever stop to think?'_

Samael sighed to himself, smiling gratefully towards a group of Gryffindor girls who were scoffing at the boy. "Have you ever heard the Muggle expression 'look before your leap'?" he enquired, resting his weight upon his cane. "Normally it is referred to when using the analogy metaphorically, however in this case I do believe that we can use it literally. Potter thought the remembrall was falling, so chased after it. He _should_ have looked, saw that the object was _still_ in Draco's hand and then_ not_ attempt a suicide dive? Do you comprehend?"

The older red-headed child attempted to probably scream another accusation at Samael, however he was cut off by the shrill tones of Hermione Granger. "Oh do stop it Ronald!" she demanded, with all of the other girls nodding along behind her. "We all saw that Robert attempted to show off and failed, and Malfoy only took the remembrall because he didn't know it was Neville's. _Plus_, you two only wanted it for yourselves, we all heard you taunting Neville at breakfast!" Granger's frizzy hair bobbed along to her words, as she belittled the Weasley before the entire class.

"Is that so?" Samael asked, rising his eyebrow in disdain at the two red-heads. "Well in that case, Granger, as I believe that you are more reliable than those two over there," the raven-haired boy stated, before bowing shallowly at the waist, to most of the class' confusion and shock. _'The __Mudblood!__ Why do you want a favour from __her__? Samael!' _"Please would you pass along Draco and mine apologies to Longbottom, and return his remembrall to him?"

Seeming flustered with the unexpected show of formality, Granger quickly agreed to the boy's question and accepted the remembrall with a soft smile. "Thank you Granger," he called, as he left the Lions to rejoin the snakes, and meet the furious silver orbs of Draco Malfoy.

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><p><strong>AN: **I created several of these spells with the help of GoogleTranslate (so they most probably are not accurate): Revelare nomen (reveal name) Aperire ostium (open door) Revelare tuum secreta (reveal your secrets) Patefacio cutis (open skin)

Some anonymous reviews came my way, and one of you asked a question, however as there was no way to contact you, I thought I'd address your question here.

Will there be any pairings?

_Yes there will be. Apart from the ones already seen (Narcissa/Lucius, Remus/Severus etc), there will be Draco/Samael (eventually). Any other side-pairings shall be decided in time, however there won't be too many, as my main priority is the plot :)_

A massive 'Thank you' to my amazing beta: **Zoey Rowan**.


	12. Stay With Me

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

Warnings: Angst.

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><p><span>Stay With Me<span>

_Stay with me, please don't go._

_Don't want to be alone._

_Stay with me, please don't go;_

_Stay with me, please._

_Stay With Me - Celldweller_

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><p>Samael sighed internally at the thunderous look upon Draco's face, <em>'Did he not remember what I told him last month? Parkinson and Zabini see<em>_m to understand what I did, why does Draco not?'_ the raven-haired boy thought to himself, ensuring his posture was straight and his face indifferent as he faced his companion.

The blonde's hand shot out and tightened itself around Samael's wrist; snarling quietly at the other boy, Samael allowed himself to be dragged away from the others in the class. They however weren't paying attention to the two Slytherins, as their gaze was currently transfixed upon the frantic form of James Potter bustling about his son, whilst gently carrying him behind him using _morbilcorpus_. Samael felt the tingling of a silencing spell be cast around the two of them, _'At least he is conscious enough from the anger, to ward us,'_ and quirked an eyebrow at the scowling and glaring face of Draco Malfoy. "Did you want something Dragon?" he questioned sweetly, smirking as he saw said boy's eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

"Why did you give the remembrall back to the Mudblood!" he roared into Samael's unflinching face. "She doesn't deserve magic, she's born of Muggles. Muggles Samael, Muggles! Disgusting, disgraceful, worthless Muggles!" he spat, and Samael idly noted that the boy's loose blonde hair was going to get knotted pretty badly judging on how brisk the wind was.

"Have you finished your diatribe?" Samael asked with an unimpressed tone, not allowing Draco any time to answer. "I understand your hatred towards Muggles, Draco, I hate them more than most. Muggleborns however contain magical blood. I do not care that you believe they do not deserve it; however most of them wield extreme amounts of power. Draco, I do not wish to upset you, you are not even upon my list of those I wish to harm, however if you cannot see the power Granger possesses, or understand that a connection to her would benefit us then frankly you will be a liability," the Lestrange heir answered honestly, a painful twist of lips upon his face as he regarded the stupefied Malfoy.

"You cannot honestly expect me to believe that she is that powerful?" Draco questioned incredulously, with growing horror and realisation. "I mean sure she is second only to you and I in most classes, and her knowledge on certain matters is quite astounding for a Mudblood, but -"

"But nothing Draco, can you not _feel _her power, it's intoxicating to be around. It feels like a less potent version of my own, and it just falls short of yours – it is just so _dark_. Could you not feel the spike in her magic whilst Potter was falling to the ground? It was so – so – _beautiful_."

Draco stared at his companion with shock. "You mean the reason why you were so bloodthirsty up there was because of the Mudblood!" he cried out; whilst a twinge of unhappiness crept into those silver orbs, and bright verdant ones glittered with confusion _'He seems more agitat__ed that usual, is it because he doesn't like the thought of a Muggleborn affecting me? Or is it because he wasn't the cause of my temporary insanity? He has always been slightly protective over myself, shall I placate __him?'_

"And yours," Samael admitted, whilst tightening his grip around his cane. "Normally a person's magic will not influence another's attitude temporarily, however if they are_ magically strong, _and they themselves are feeling a particularly strong emotion then they project it across a radius for whoever with equally strong or stronger magic. You, Granger and I were all influencing each other, didn't you wonder why _you _were having unusual thoughts?" Samael tilted his head to the side, regarding the blonde with a thoughtful look.

"You mean I was influenced by a Mudblood!"

"Have we actually returned to this again, Draco?" Samael asked with impatience. "The Pureblood families cannot assure their lines being powerful, when they continue to interbreed with one another. The Malfoys are exempt from it because they have bred with families with other countries, (predominately France) and also (many centuries ago) with magical creatures such as Veelas."

Samael glanced at the blonde to see if he was objecting to anything said so far, but the blonde just nodded along. _'Knowing Lucius, Draco probably learnt this at age three,'_ Samael thought with amusement, before continuing. "However the power of the Malfoy family cannot be said for other Pureblood families in Britain. The power of the average Muggleborn in comparison to Crabbe or Goyle is astounding, and quite frankly disturbing. What is the honour and prestige of being a 'Pureblood' if you are nothing but a squib – little more than a _Muggle_.

Draco froze in shock, his protestations dying on his tongue when he heard Samael's last sentence; "Fine! I accept that she is abnormally talented!" Draco declared, wild silver orbs upon Samael's face. "Why would you want a favour from her anyway?" he asked, continuing when he saw the other boy was about to interrupt. "She won't be of any use to you, she's a Gryffindor, she will never help you in the future with any of your plans," he attempted to reason, but the small smile on the raven-haired child's face made him pause.

"Appearances can be deceiving Draco, you did not see her eyes when I handed over the remembrall, she may have appeared grateful to you all but her eyes didn't trust me. And I am not meaning distrustful because I was a Slytherin, but distrustful because that was her nature in general. She trusts no-one, yet appears kind and presents herself as the dutiful Gryffindor. Do you not see Draco?" Samael asked; fervently locking his eyes upon the blonde's "She is playing everyone, she has fooled everyone, she's just as good as us, however she is more subtle."

The blonde sneered at Samael's praise of the girl, and upon seeing this the Lestrange decided to offer Draco his final persuasive argument – playing upon the blonde's apparent weakness towards the Lestrange. "Draco," he called softly to gain his attention, "I am only assuring my standing with those with power, power is what drives a true Snake not blood. You have power Draco, and I like you, I doubt that I will ever regret that decision, however if you do not open your eyes to the worth of Granger than I am afraid I would have to stop my association with you," he gently warned, smiling grimly as a look of complete and utter desolation crossed the blonde's face.

"I do _not _want that Draco," Samael quickly assured his distraught cousin. "I suggest that you talk to your father of his business dealings with a certain Walter Scott, I am sure that the knowledge will interest you," the Lestrange heir advised, as he began exiting the safety of the bubble of silence, however he paused once he was a few feet from the Malfoy. "Draco, I-I am sorry for snapping at you earlier, I know that you were only worrying for my health and sanity. Forgive me?" The raven-haired boy sent the other an uncertain smile, before his face was schooled into its usual expressionless mask as he faced the rest of the class.

_'Why did I add that last sentence? Why was my heart thudding so hard, my stomach churning and __chest aching when I was about to leave? Is this what others call guilt?'_ the Lestrange thought to himself, as he began walking towards the other Snakes.

~#~#~

"Is there something wrong with Draco?" Zabini questioned curiously, as the Italian boy stared at the lone blonde, quite a distance from the remaining members of the class.

"He has received quite a shock I suspect," Parkinson replied dryly, gesturing her head towards the approaching expressionless form of Samael Lestrange. The Italian boy turned towards his friend with an expression which was a cross between amusement and annoyance. "He didn't know Lestrange was going to be making friends with the Mudblood."

"You're only talking like that because you've now gained Lestrange's favour," Zabini replied; replacing his mask as the group of Gryffindors turned their way. "You think now that Lestrange is civil to you, and you him, that you can now somehow know what he is thinking," the boy accused to the girl, who glared at the other Slytherin and clenched her jaw tight.

"You're wrong Blaise," she hissed at him, "as usual. I do not _know_ what Lestrange is thinking, however I can _guess, _because I have been researching him. Not his history of course, I do not feel the need to drag that up from its murky depths, however I have seen that he has been courteous to everyone but Potter and Weasley, regardless of age, House and blood. What does that tell you?"

Blinking at his friend in confusion, he glanced sideways to the stoic boy who was slowly making his was toward the castle. "He is making connections, gaining support...by Merlin! He's getting followers!" Parkinson cast a contemplative gaze into air before, whilst worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"No," she said slowly. "I do not think he wants followers, favours yes, and loyalties perhaps, but those completely dedicated to him – no. I think he's aware that many would be too influenced by their parents or home situation to fully do anything and everything he says."

"Well, age certainly has no hold on him," Blaise murmured to the girl, who looked at him with confusion; seeing this the boy explained further. "He is one of the scariest people I have ever met, I believe that he could do _anything_ if it would be a benefit to him. He's just...so. Words can't describe him, he is like pure potential, and everyone in the Slytherin can sense it."

Pansy nodded in agreement, before looking at the boy in question through her eyelashes. "Do you reckon he can hear us?" she whispered to her friend, who merely snorted at her. "Right right, of course he can."

Seeing the smug smirk upon the Lestrange's face, the Italian sighed and softly shook his head in exasperation. "I think that we have stroked his ego enough for one day."

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><p>"Only two people could ever figure this out," a soft voice murmured to itself, whilst traversing the many forgotten, winding corridors of Hogwarts Castle. A smile spread itself across their face, as the long familiar magic of Hogwarts herself washed over the person, verifying if they were a threat to any of her favoured inhabitants – the person was not.<p>

"Yes, only two – Severus and Samael. They have both grown into such great young men; decisive, cunning and intellectual. Samael may be young however he has the brains to discover this secret, perhaps if I send _that_ to him then he would be able to uncover the whole plan," the person mused; fingers trailing over the rigid bumps of the building's perfect imperfection.

"Ah, the idea is worth its merit, however if Samael has the potential that I truly believe he possess, then he should be able to discover it all by June at the very least, Severus too, any later and I would be ashamed to have valued their worth. Ah, let us call it a test of sorts, a test for our dear Potion Master and darling Lestrange."

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><p><em>Sunday 20<em>_th__ October_

"This is pathetic," the man drawled to his godson, whilst casting a disapproving eye down the Malfoy's form. _'Rule no:02 of the Malfoy rulebook is to always appear immaculate in public, and Draco would never disregard this rule if he was within his right mind,'_ Severus worriedly thought to himself, whilst quickly pulling the blonde into an abandoned alcove, and sneering at the scraggy dirty-blonde locks, the off-white coloured shirt loose from his trousers, and his once prided pristine dragon-hide loafers scuffed and dirty.

"I am at loss to why you are in such a disgraced state," he murmured to the child, pinching his noble nose between his potion-stained fingers. "You attempted to go to breakfast, late I may add, appearing like this. I can only thank Merlin that you were so tardy that the other Snakes did not see you, _that _would have been the ruination of the Malfoy name; now pray tell why are you like this?"

An unintelligible response passed the child's lips, so quiet that even Severus with his abnormally sensitive hearing could not strain to catch the words. "Louder Draco, Malfoy's do not mumble," the man dictated pointedly, frowning as his godson did nothing to rectify his mistake but instead merely lowered his head, so his gaze was focused upon his shoes. _'What can be wrong with him? The only time he was ever like this was age 6 when Orio__n died, that Crup was the only thing he could call a frie- Oh,'_

Shifting uncomfortably on the spot; Severus deepened his frown upon the Malfoy. "Draco have you and Samael had a disagreement of sorts?" he questioned softly, dropping into a crouch in order to be at eye-level with the blonde. He saw sparkling the silver eyes close, a pained expression flashing across the child's face, before he attempted to hide it with a cold look. "Dragon," Severus sternly stated, "do not even try to look indifferent, I've known you since you were a little brat, I know when you're upset, and I definitely know when you're trying to deceive me. So what happened?"

The Malfoy seemed to shrink at his godfather's words, and the Potion Master withheld a sigh. _'I can't let anyone __see him like this,' _he thought to himself, whilst internally thanking whatever deities which may exist that his office was only around the corner. "Come on Dragon, we're going to go to my office, and then you are going to tell me everything that happened." the Potion Master gently gripped the boy by the shoulder, and led the boy towards the only place they could safely talk.

It wasn't long before the two were ensconced in a cold, dimly-lit room, where shadowed walls lined with various coloured potions, in a vast array of jars, cast a daunting look upon both the room and its owner. Severus had to withhold yet another sigh, as the shadows only caused his godson to appear even smaller and daintier than he already was, as he sat in one of the only chairs in the room.

"We have..._contradicting_ views when it comes to Mudblo - Muggleborns," a quiet voice stated, surprising the elder man from his reverie. "h-he just...I don't...I cannot understand how he can _like_ them, after everything he's been through! Surely he should hate them?" silver orbs, riddled with irritated confusion met the widened ones of the man's own.

_'Why am I the one who has to deal with the confusion of pre-teenage boys?'_ the Potion-Master thought tiredly to himself. _'First Andras with his newest,__ ridiculous fascination/obsession with male pregnancy, and now Draco with his hatred of Muggleborns. Are they ganging together? Creating a 'who can shock Severus Snape the best' club?'_

"Dragon," Severus murmured, pulling his own cushioned chair closer toward the blonde. "What you have got to understand, is that Muggles are _not_ Muggleborns. I cannot even begin to presume what Samael thinks, however I myself sympathise with the Muggleborns of Hogwarts," the Potion Master said, and the almost-phlegmatic expression on his Godson's face told him exactly what the blonde thought of that idea.

"Now, now, Dragon, hear me out. Muggles," he began heavily, casting weary eyes upon those of the Malfoy. "they do not understand what they deem abnormal, granted, some Muggles are more tolerable, however they all feel threatened when something with greater power appears – us. Now, Samael lived with his Aunt and Uncle, and they hated him because of who he was, now just imagine if Muggle parents discovered their child possessed magic," he theorised towards his Godson; a grim smile appearing upon his face, when he saw the understanding in the child's eyes.

"You don't mean? Surely you cannot Severus, to their own children? But that is just barbaric! And shameful! Why does no-one stop it? If you know of it, then surely others must do also," he rambled frantically, wide silver eyes almost hysterical in his pale face.

"I know Dragon, because my father was a Muggle, and I know exactly what the filthy beings can do, the Ministry however, is blinded by Dumbledore and his idealistic beliefs that we can all co-exist peacefully. I do know that many students are removed from their parents or guardian's care if they are found to be abused, but by then it is too late. Many may believe it is their fault, many despise their life, and many don't even live to receive their Hogwarts letter," he sadly informed the boy before him, as the silver eyes burned with righteous anger.

"That is despicable! I do not give a damn if people believe that Muggles can raise Magical children; Wizards and Witches should look after their own," he decided resolutely, glaring at the jars to Severus' left, before seeming to deflate. "But, that doesn't explain Samael's behaviour, you should have seen him Severus, it was as if he was intoxicated! He – he told me it was because of the Muggleborn, that their magic was similar. What am I to do, Severus? Samael's going to get friendly with her!"

_'Why does he not understand that in order to gain favours you have to be polite and __charming? Granted I wasn't the best at school, it was Lucius, surely he would have instilled the same ideas into his son?' _the man thought tiredly to himself, before voicing his opinions."I told all of you that you had to make connections with other Houses, Dragon, why are you so adverse to this all? I highly doubt that Samael was genuinely hoping, to, how did you put it? 'Get friendly' with the Granger girl," the Potion-Master denied with barely noticeable traces of annoyance.

"But he was smiling at her! Smiling!" the Malfoy threw his hands into the air to exaggerate his point, a movement so alien to both Godfather and Godchild, that they both stared at each other with incredulity.

After Severus managed to reign in his shock, and regained enough sense of reality, he finally acerbically drawled, "Yes, Draco, as doing the opposite would prove rather counterproductive." The answer didn't seem to please the blonde child, as he scowled violently at the elder.

"There's no need to be facetious, Severus," he muttered, whilst petulantly folding his arms across his chest. "It wasn't a fake smile, it was genuine, almost warm! And he has only ever smiled that way at us, and only then it was sparse, yet his smiles seem to be freely given to the Mudbloo – Granger!" _'W__ell that __is__ certainly unexpected, what isn't however is Draco's jealousy; he rarely let the boy alone over the holidays, and if this is his reaction to when they're separated, I can only hope they reconcile soon.'_

"Draco," Severus softly murmured, knowing that the best way to soothe his Godson, was to not antagonise him further. "What exactly happened? You mentioned Samael being intoxicated, and I certainly cannot recall any situation in which he has ever been overly emotional. I'm sure that talking through the situation will help decipher it."

The suggestion must have seemed halfway reasonable, if not completely plausible, as the Malfoy heir began to retell his flying lesson from the day previously. And as the Potion-Master began to fully understand what exactly his Godson was mumbling about, the only reaction that belied his stone-faced expression was the slight widening of his onyx orbs.

_'Magical influence is almost unheard of at this age,'_ he mused quietly to himself, before snorting sardonically, _'What am I talking about? Two of the children involved are the progeny of two of the most oldest families in Europe, and one has the added benefit of having the blood of the Darkest Wizard in existence.'_

"What do you think, Severus? Do you think he's going to become _friends _with her?" desperate silver eyes fixed upon those of the Potion-Master. The man sighed softly to himself, as an idea flashed itself at the forefront of his mind.

"Draco, are you worried about Samael being friendly with Granger, or are you worried about him not spending time with you?" And there was no verbal answer required, as the Malfoy lowered his head, and seemed to shrink into himself. _'He's jealous, I can handle this – I think.' _"Dragon, I don't know whether you are actually fully understanding what Samael was saying." Severus was expecting the trademark Malfoy glare, and merely raised his hand for silence. "Hear me out, it sounds as if Samael doesn't want to be friends with her, but he was testing her loyalties, and from what you said, it seems as if she has none."

"What are you saying?" the eleven year old asked, confusion evident upon his face, along with anger and hope.

"What I am saying Draco, is that Samael is not her friend. He was most likely proving something to himself, besides you told me that Samael said he liked you, and did not want to lose your acquaintance. He also apologised. Now, I know you have a brain somewhere inside that head of yours," he pointedly said, "now think with it. Samael did not grow up in a positive environment, he himself is most probably confused with what he is feeling; the notion of being friends is strange to him, and as none of you have verbally acknowledge it, well..." the man tapered off.

The black-haired man eyed the boy with incredulity, _'Oh, for the love__ of all things Magic; why is he __not understanding? _"I did not think that you were such a dunderhead Draco, _you_ have to initiate contact with Samael, I know that he seems strong to everyone, but both you and I have seen him at his worst. You have to patch things up with him, as he is probably bewildered with what he is feeling, and maybe even to some extent scared."

Silver eyes grew round in shock as the elder-wizards words sank in, before the blonde boy quickly yet firmly shook his head in denial. "No, I can't do that! I'll just make a fool out of myself!"

_'Everyone needs to make fools of themselves once in a while, Merlin knows I have.' _"For shame, Draco! You know what is wrong, yet you won't do the right thing, what of Samael?" Severus admonished sharply, glaring ferociously at the blonde child.

The Malfoy suddenly grew defensive at the Potion-Master's chiding, as he bristled in his seat, and returned the elder man's glare with vigour. "Samael is smart, I'm sure he can figure it out. Besides," the blonde's flippant words caused the onyx-haired man's ire to reach increasingly high heights. "I should not have to do anything I do not like, and Samael's already bitter, I'm sure nothing I can say shall alleviate any of it."

And with a neutral expression, Draco Malfoy's impassive eyes watched Severus Snape's mouth curl into a silent snarl, and his eyes narrow into almost-impossible slits. "Get out," the man softly whispered, as he silently spelled the door to open with a slam. "And do not even think of talking to me, until you have thought upon what you have just said, and regret it with every ounce of your being."

With a sneer, the blonde rose to his feet, (whilst lightly dusting invisible lint from his robes), and strode towards the door. "Malfoy's regret nothing," he called as a parting, before he disappeared into corridor. _'Malfoy's regret nothing? Heh, I'm sure you will be the exception then,'_ Severus angrily thought, before sweeping out of his office, his robes billowing behind him.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday 31<em>_st__ October 1991_

The news of the infamous Samael Lestrange, and Draco Malfoy not speaking to one another, had spread like wildfire throughout the Snake-House. None of the Slytherins had personally enquired to what had instigated the lack of contact, however none of them were adverse to loitering in the common-room (where the onyx-haired child was known to spend his evenings, reading an unknown text). However that was not to say, that none hadn't been covertly theorising the reasons behind the two notorious boys' behaviour, as the speculations were ready to spill from loose lips to any willing ear.

Unsurprisingly, the ones to have taken the most interest in the two boys, were the oldest in the Slytherin House, because after the help they had received earlier in the month, they figuratively 'owed one' to the boys. However, the elder-Snakes had reserved judgement on the two first-years, as neither had publicly shown any drastic difference to their demeanour. Draco Malfoy had taken to talking little, with his only fellow conversationalists being those in his own year, whilst Lestrange, had begun extending his reach.

Many Ravenclaw students had let the Snake borrow books from their elusive endless Library, in exchange for various favours (including: knowledge of Pureblood families and sitting for paintings), whilst the Hufflepuffs had offered many dangerous open-ended favours, after the eleven year old had assisted some Badgers with their Potions work. However, what impressed the sixth and seventh year Snakes the most, was the fact that their youngest edition had even managed to gain a Lion's respect, which was a difficult feat for many who wore a green and silver tie.

How the child managed it, they had no idea, as the Lestrange was not exactly affable. It wasn't doubted that the onyx-haired boy could smooth-talk the most experienced of charmers, or (if he wished) diffuse a hostile situation with his voice alone, however what prevented him from gaining those who trusted him was that he had an aura of reserve about himself. A bubble in which none could tread, which always seemed to separate the boy from the rest of his peers.

Its severity had gone undetected, as the Lestrange was extremely close to the Malfoy, however since the two had been avoiding one another, most had noticed a change in him. It made him more silent, contemplative. And those thoughts, even to the most curious of Snakes, were best to remain privy to only their owner.

Which was why the dinner that night was a silent affair, just as it had been for the past eleven days, and despite the two sitting opposite one another, they never engaged one another in conversation. Only their gazes belied their feelings, by straying once the other wasn't watching; one full of angry confusion, and the other of resigned despair.

With a masked scowl, the onyx-haired pre-teen couldn't help but hear, the familiar blonde's voice as he complained to Blaise Zabini. "It's disgusting, they have all this foolish Muggle crap decorating the place; I mean 'trick or treating'? What idiocy, we are attending the most prestigious Magical school in Great Britain, and instead of bonfires, and cleansing rituals, we have _carved pumpkins_ and _sweeties_. Dumbledore has to be the most disrespectful wizard of all time."

_'I cannot disagree with him there, but has his voice always been this nasal and grating?'_ he thought, whilst surreptitiously glancing at the boy in question as he turned to speak to another girl in their year. _'Daphne Greengrass,'_ his mind supplied. _'I apologised to him, and he has not uttered one single word at me; what am I? Chopped liver? Why will he not speak with me? I cannot think of any plausible reason,'_ he internally muttered to himself; gently placing the cutlery in his hand upon the table, so as to not break them in his grasp.

_'I was under the impression that we shared a... __Bond__, Yes, a bond of mutually positive feelings, but that does not explain our loss of contact. I even felt guilty for my actions, I should not do that,__ I should not doubt myself. I must have been – mistaken.'_ the word foreign was to his mind, mistakes did not prove profitable, and must immediately be rectified._ 'I obviously placed more value in our camaraderie then he, I do not even know why I allowed my__self to succumb to these plebeian __emotions__. I am such a fool.'_

The sensation of someone staring at him roused the Lestrange from his reverie; quickly casting his gaze around the Hall to catch Severus' worried eyes. Slight creasing about his mouth, showed how genuine the emotion was to the boy, who passed a small up-turning of the lips in reply. Samael always seemed to forget how much Severus _understood_ him, how apt he was at relating with him, but Severus always managed to remind him when Samael most needed it. The boy watched as the man dipped his head in acknowledgement, before narrowing his gaze upon the laughing form of his Godson.

_'I had noticed their discord, I wonder what Draco did,'_ Samael thought; his own eyes narrowing with concern, before he remembered. _'It is not my affair any longer; I have no interest any more, now that we are no longer companions. I can only feign indifference, as if he was merely an – acquaintance, yes an acquaintance, just like Parkinson and Zabini. And since he's merely a__n acquaintance, I should refer to him as Malfoy from now on, it seems most appropriate, but that notion just doesn't sit right with me;__why can I not separate my damned feelings from-'_

The background chattering of the jovial students ceased, when the Hall doors slammed open with a reverberating 'bang', as a rather harassed looking Quirinus Quirrell rushed into the curious gaze of the entire school. "T-There's a-a Troll, in the Dungeons, I-I just t-thought I'd let y-you know," he stammered out, before promptly feinting upon the flagstone floor.

The silence was almost deafening, to pun an old cliché, until the frightened Professor's words kick-started most of the students brains into screaming for their lives. _'Well,'_ Samael thought dryly, chancing a glance to the widened silver gaze of his former companion. _'this has certainly turned very interesting, very quickly.'_

With the Headmaster attempting to defeat the chaotic mess (endless hysterical teenagers), by assuring everyone that they would be safe in sound in their common rooms, caused mass sneering and growls from the Slytherins, and a disgusted look from their Head of House. So, after quick discussion with Severus, the Snake prefects directed their younger charges towards the Library, hissing lightly as they exited the Hall alongside apoplectic Lions.

However as the group of Slytherins smoothly barged passed their ruby rivals, Samael noted something equally interesting – Potter and Weasley not so subtly distancing themselves from their House. A quick darting of his eyes, assured the Lestrange that the next bend in the corridor provided sufficient shadow for his idea, and that no-one was watching him; and with one single move, the elven-year old slipped away from the sea of bodies towards the lone, cool crevice of the wall.

Oblivious, the Slytherins continued their strides towards the Library, with the Gryffindors bringing up the rear; much too scared to even attempt to taunt their rivals. A satisfied smile crossed the Lestrange's face, when he saw his two targets take a corridor to his left, an abandoned corridor. _'Perfect.'_

"I don't why we're doing this, Rob!" Samael heard Weasley's exasperated and hysterical exclamation, "It's bloody mental, _we're_ both bloody mental!" he vehemently cried, gesticulating wildly with his arms for emphasis.

"Shut up Ron! Who do you think they're gonna blame if she turns up dead? Us, I tell you! We were the last to see her, and when McGonagall discovers we knew and didn't help; our heads will be rolling down to Hogsmeade before either of us can say 'Quidditch'!" Potter angrily retorted, whilst running his fingers through his harassed hair. _'Dead? Oh, this really has turned interesting.' _"Where did Parvarti say she was again? The girls' toilets?"

"B-but we can't go in there!" the Weasley spluttered out, "It's wrong!" Snorting quietly to himself at the red-head's ethics, Samael edged around the corner. "Besides how could a Troll get into school? Maybe Quirrell just saw his own shadow, or something?"

Robert turned to his friend with incredulity. "No-one, not even Quirrell, could mistake a Troll for a shadow, Ron. How stupid are you?" The Weasley flinched back, in what Samael could only presume was anger. "Anyway, if you're too _scared_ then you can just go back to the common room, and wait until _I _get back." A low hiss escaped the boy's throat, along with something which sounded like 'I'm not a coward!'

_'Ridiculous, you insult a Lion's bravery and they become even more stupid,'_ Samael thought with contempt, eyeing the red-head who was storming ahead of his friend. "Ron, Ron! Don't be like this!" Robert Potter demanded, whilst hurrying after the boy who only quickened his pace at his friend's chasing. "I didn't mean it, okay? You're not a coward."

"Really?" the hopeful voice enquired, and the Lestrange could hardly keep his disgust from vocalising.

"Yeah, I don't want to lose my best mate over a stupid little thing like that, do I?" the Potter laughed at himself, punching the Weasley good naturedly on the arm. "I mean, we don't want to end up like Malfoy and Lestrange do we? They aren't even talking, and it's been two weeks or something like that." _'Oh Merlin, even the oblivious Gryffindors have noticed.'_

"Those two don't deserve anything they're Snakes, look what they did to you in the Flying Lesson!" Weasley shouted angrily.

"Lestrange – he didn't do anything, it was Malfoy who pretended to throw it," Robert softly said.

"But he was touching your wound! I saw him!" Ronald stubbornly continued.

"I don't really remember that, Ron; but I don't think that Lestrange can do anything bad even if he is a Snake. I saw him help some Hufflepuffs last week; I mean an evil person doesn't do that do they?"

"Whatever, who cares what him and Malfoy have fallen out over, they probably don't even know the meaning of the word friend, they probably think that that talking to each other every day and refusing to be apart is because they're acquaintances or other such rot, what idiots."

And with a start, Samael remembered the words he spoke in Malfoy Manor's Healing room, _'Friends, what a foreign concept. Have I honestly been this blind? Have I inadvertently become _friends_ with Draco? Surely he would have acknowledged our status – unless he took my words to heart,' _the Lestrange realised with something stirring in his stomach which could only be described as dread.

_'Perhaps, he presumed I did not want such a thing, and I must admit that the notion of it still seems quite strange, however am I truly adverse to it? Am I naïve enough to believe a friend will cure me of this burning rage inside myself? Or that having such a status should prove to be a weakness? Is it not so, that if someone harms Draco, then I will ensure that the perpetrator is seriously maimed and or killed? Do I care for him? Do I not smile at him? Greet him with affection? And has he not always been abnormally attached for a mere companion_

_'Can I honestly lie to myself, and say that being __friends__ with Draco does not scare me, yet warm me at the same time? Can I not believe that __being his friend will make __me__ stronger, __him__ stronger? I could manipulate him, he would do anything for me,'_ Samael thought, yet none of the satisfaction he usually felt at such an advantageous revelation was present. _'No, I could not do __that;__ after all I w__ould do anything for him also.' _Fighting the urge to rub at his turbulent eyes, Samael sighed forlornly._ 'What happened to the days where I only felt anger? Everything was so much simpler then.'_

"...the Troll came from the third floor, I bet you anything," Robert Potter's voice barged into Samael's brain, forcing his awareness to the forefront of his mind. "It was probably guarding whatever that dog's guarding underneath that trapdoor, but it escaped somehow."

"Crikey, Robert! How could a troll be in the same room as that dog? I can't even begin to think how Hermione saw that trapdoor, as I was focused on its three heads trying to eat us!" Ronald Weasley exclaimed, and Samael's eyes gleamed with interest whilst he filed away the information.

"I know!" his friend empathised, as he nodded in agreement with his words. "And Hermione was staring at its feet! She's a strange one, she said she followed us because she didn't want us to lose House points, but I think she just didn't want to be alone – she has no friends!"

"Which is the reason she ran crying to the girl's toilet, instead of eating in the Great Hall and hearing that a big-ass Troll was loose in the castle!" Ronald ranted, whilst viciously kicking the wall.

"I know, the toilet should be around here though, Parvarti said it's around the corner from the Potions classroom, and we passed that about five minut – what was that?" Potter asked worriedly, as he and Ronald began to quickly search around them for the source of a strange clattering noise.

"I don't know, but can you smell that? It's disgusting." Ronald replied; and Samael had to screw his nose up in distaste. _'Weasley was correct; it smells like rotten eggs, which is an odour most commonly associated with the Troll family, especially Mountain Tro__lls. Do I believe that these two can defeat a Troll?'_ he questioned to himself, before chuckling lowly. There was no way that those two could defeat Crup, let alone a Troll, and none of his bias affected that conclusion, the two were utterly pathetic at any practical spell-work.

An almost inaudible scream perforated the air, only seconds before a large thud shook the ground with a fast succession of inhuman grunts. _'Do the risks outweigh the benefits?'_ Samael asked himself; sneering as the two pale red-heads began to flee the scene, whispering about how the death of one girl would save the whole school. _'The gratitude of Granger, with her assurances of hatred towards those two, alongside, performing a task which my __brother__ failed to complete, against the ri__sk of being harmed. Oh, I believe this is totally worth it.'_

No screams were being emitted from the toilet any longer, which either meant that the witch was dead or the Troll incapacitated, however from the lack of thuds or grunts, Samael rather thought the latter was the correct conclusion. Rocking lightly upon his feet, Samael paused for thought, before striding towards the room where (as he drew closer) he heard harsh panting, and whispered words.

"Ah, well I see that my presence was not needed here," the Lestrange stated, whilst inclining his head toward the unconscious Troll, laying amidst the debris of porcelain, plaster and tiles. The only other inhabitant in the room glanced at him, before slowly standing to her feet, as she rubbed her hand down her form to remove the dust which had settled upon her clothes.

"What are you doing here Lestrange?" she questioned, with a somewhat hostile tone, which only caused a predatory smile to stretch across the boy's face.

"I followed two nuisances, and came to see if you needed any assistance, which I can clearly see is not the case, so I will take my leave. I did not come to harm or insult yourself, no, only a few are reserved for that treatment."

"What? And the rest of us get your charming façade. The most beautiful rose has the sharpest thorns, and the smoothest tongue the harshest bite; I do not trust you," she informed him, her narrowing brown eyes dragging across his smiling face.

"Ah, I knew you would not be blind-sided by my apparent altruistic nature like the other fools out there; in a way you are the ultimate Slytherin," he mused aloud, _'I cannot hide my intentions from her, she will endeavour to discover them. If I tell her something now, something believable, her own suspicions will lower in their feroci__ty.'_

"You're actions are unnoticed by those in your own House, and your motives unquestioned; just a little muggleborn witch in the House of the _brave_. I cannot even begin to comprehend what it must be like being so near to those worthless, unimaginative little Lions. How droll, and yet, you persevere; I wonder why that is?" he questioned lightly, whilst the smile slipped from his face, and the only feature were his emerald eyes shining with danger. "You my dear, are hiding something, but you will not be able to hide it from me. I can see your eyes. How they gleam with irritation, and with wanton knowledge, and something just a little bit _dark_." The word falling from his lips with something akin to reverence.

"You are delusional Lestrange," her firm voice stated, yet her seeming confident manner was ruined by the nervous gulp she took before speaking. "I don't know what it is that you've been seeing, but I am not a Slytherin, and I am not hiding anything that anyone hasn't already seen."

Samael tilted his head to the side, like a curious bird, yet its innocent gesture was anything but. "Is that so Granger? Then answer me this, why are you shaking?" he questioned; waving his hand toward her trembling frame.

The girl glanced at her hands, which held the slightest tremor, before locking her gaze with the boy's before her. "Because I am scared," she answered, and the slight hitch in her breath could indeed be fear if one was to interpret it that way.

"Scared?" Samael echoed, before shaking his head twice in disagreement. "Because I am an evil Snake? No, no, no, that is not true is it? The adrenaline," he said smoothly; slowly approaching her still form. "It is pumping its way throughout your body, supplying your muscles with the instinctive 'fight or flight' energy. And yet, you are still here. Why are you not running? Surely if you were truly scared you would run, and you know that I would not be able to catch you. So the only plausible explanation to _you_ still being here with _me_, is that you want to fight."

His wand was in his hands quicker than the Gryffindor girl's eyes could see, and the tip was almost lovingly tracing the line of her jaw. The almost imperceptible shift in her breath, made the grin appear upon his face once more, it was the unhinged smile, the one only Bellatrix and Draco had ever seen.

"I say that you were _excited_, defeating something, using your magic actively against a living being, to harm it, cause it _pain_. I say that you were _enjoying_ yourself, and that is the real reason that you were so angry to see me. You have been keeping yourself hidden for so long, and you have done such a good job at keep yourself contained, ensuring that no-one ever saw the true you. So you were so angry, that the one day you lose control is the same day that you see the one person that could only ever understand, and you were so _excited_ that someone had finally figured you out. Someone had given you a challenge," he breathed out, as his wand resumed its trailing of her face.

_'I have hit a nerve it seems,'_ Samael thought to himself, as the girl struggled to contain her calm composure. _'Struggling so hard to maintain her little Lion persona, but the little bird needs to stretch her wings or she will never sing, her Ruby cage cannot withhold her for long.'_

"You're insane, Lestrange, insane," she whispered, and Samael could only internally sigh at the conviction in which she was producing.

"If telling yourself that will provide you with comfort, Granger, then be my guest and besmirch my name so; however you should keep in mind, that those who deceive themselves are ultimately betraying themselves also," he warned, before edging towards the door. "Now as stimulating as our conversation is Granger, I must bid you adieu before the Professors arrive."

"W-Wait! You're leaving?" she called out uncertainly, "What are we going to do with the Troll?"

"The Troll?" Samael enquired; his eyebrow rising with amusement. "Well, _we_ are not going to do anything. _You_ are preferably going to retreat to your Common Room, and (if possible) avoid Potter and Weasley, whilst _I _am going to do what a Slytherin does best – wheedle themselves out of compromising situations," Samael informed her; smirking at her horrified expression, whilst continuing his path towards the door.

"Neville!" she burst out; her face red as Samael turned once more to her. "Longbottom. Neville Longbottom, I don't think he was at the feast, he was in here trying to cheer me up," _'Not that you were actually upset,' _"And he left about five minutes before the Troll came," she hurried out, before turning pleading brown eyes upon the Lestrange. _'I was under the impression that Granger disliked Longbottom,'_

"And you thought that I would find him for you?" Samael asked, whilst both of his brows rose into his hairline. "I thought that you had ascertained – not only two minutes ago, that I was not capable of full mental awareness." The girl had the decency to blush at his words, and opened her mouth to speak, however Samael cut her off.

"Is it your conscience?" he easily asked, "Or is it something else? Something self-serving? After all if a Snake finds a poor, little, lost _Lion_ than who would ever suspect the reason behind such an atrocity was their very own _know-it-all_?" he murmured, causing the girl's face to flush further. "Well it matters not, however if it was the former I would be oh, so, sorely disappointed. Adieu Granger," he called out, before slipping into the cool corridor, smirking as he felt the eyes boring themselves into his back. _'The game is afoot Granger, __care you to play?'_

Turning calculating eyes across his surroundings, Samael thought it best to find the Longbottom heir, after all a stronger connection with him would prove most gratuitous_'If he left five minutes before the Troll came then I surely would have seen him, which must mean he came from the other direction,'_ Samael thought to himself, as he gazed down a darkened corridor which he did not recognise. _'However if he took __this__ direction, then he must have come across the Troll,'_ he deducted, eyeing the scuffed walls. _'A splattered Longbottom, how distasteful.'_

It didn't take long for the Lestrange to find the Longbottom; Hogwarts had lit several torches in the brackets along the walls, so the boy was easily spotted after the first hundred feet from the original corridor. The Gryffindor was huddled as close as physically possible into a tight crevice, with his chubby arms circling his bent legs, softly murmuring to himself.

Resisting the urge to call for the 'Little Lion' to 'come out of his hiding place', Samael slowly approached the obviously frightened form. And the closer he got to the Gryffindor, the more legible he found his words, and without further ado, the onyx-haired child crouched down, his emerald eyes holding wide, frightened brown ones, a large smirk spreading across his face as he did so. _'Oh, this is certainly interesting; farewell Potter.'_

* * *

><p>An aura of discontent surrounded the Slytherin House, after abandoning their meals, suffering through an extremely irate Madam Pince's rant, and left to shiver in the Library for approximately five hours, then (and only then) did their Head of House arrive. Quite surprisingly, the Snakes could see that Severus Snape was giddy, abnormally so in fact – it was quite disconcerting.<p>

With varying stages of relief and anger, the Snakes exited the Library in an orderly fashion; headed by their Potions Master, the thought in everyone's minds was one to never leave their beds. The mere suggestion of feather-down pillows, heavy duvets, and warm blankets, caused most of them to remember their decorum, and resist the urge to barrel into their Common Room, and fight for the hearth.

However there was one thing that stopped them all; written in large, wispy, golden writing, was a note floating just above the sofa facing the opposite wall. A shocking note, in both its nature and content, to say at the least.

_The Points for the House of Gryffindor shall be in the negatives, by the end of breakfast tomorrow morning, (Friday 1st November 1991)._

_As written by my magic, so mote it be;_

_Samael Cygnus Lestrange._

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><p><strong>AN: **I am so sorry for how late this chapter is!

Oh, and would you like me to speed the plot up, or would you prefer it to stay at the current pace?

THANK YOU ZoeyRowan for betaing! :D


	13. Weak Emotions

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

Warnings: Angst, torture, gore, confusion (on my part anyway)...

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><p><span>Weak Emotions<span>

_I've got these questions always running through my head;_

_The kind of things that I would like to understand;_

_If we're all born to die, and we all die to live;_

_Then what's the point of living life if it just contradicts?_

_The Drug In Me Is You – Falling In Reverse_

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><p>Pale fingers carefully flicked through the pages, whilst eyes searched archaic script for any trace of his query. He had <em>seen<em> it only a week prior, he was sure of it, despite the scepticism of the man behind him telling him that such a thing couldn't ever be possible. He knew it was possible, anything was if you only had the power – aha!

_Credant mendacio_

_This invisible incantation, (used alongside the standard 'swish and flick' method), will ensure a subject will accept the projected lie as the truth. If a lie is needed to be believed in bulk, one will need to cast the spell on an inanimate object which all the subjects will touch._

_To end the spell, one needs to bring their wand down in a slashing action, whilst incanting 'mentiri accepit'; it is also needed to be noted that once the spell has been ended on the inanimate object, the subjects will still believe the lie._

The pale fingers practically stroked the page reverently, whilst a large grin spread itself across their face. "_This,_ is it," the person breathed out, before turning to the shocked man beside him. "Is it not perfect?"

The man nodded silently, before gleefully saying, "Thirty points to Slytherin." Smirking maliciously, they turned to their stunned and silenced subject. "Now, are you prepared for this? For we are most certainly going to have fun."

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><p>Minerva McGonagall released a grateful sigh as she heavily sank into her most trusted armchair, the chair which was a present from her dear Elphinstone when he was once her mentor, and had provided her with blessed relief when it was most needed. The chair now rested aside the cheerily burning hearth, from where she had moved it nearly thirty-five years ago due to the draught which perforated her chambers whenever the night came.<p>

The worn, ruby-red fabric had rested her weary bones for nary three decades now, and had offered her comfort on the days where her exhausted body just couldn't take it any longer. Exhaustion ravaged her body due to things such as the Marauders' numerous pranks, the seemingly endless amounts of paperwork she had to sign, and the death of her husband six years ago. Sometimes, life as a Hogwarts Professor was too heavy to stand.

That was not to say that she wished to end her teaching career. No, if she wasn't at Hogwarts to instil at least _some_ knowledge into the heads of her pupils, then the other Professors would ruin the students' education with their namby-pamby teaching methods. Professors like Charity Burbage, who was too soft with the children, too easily won-over by their charms, and as the only Transfiguration Professor she would have _none_ of it.

Take today for instance, Robert Potter and Ronald Weasley had gone out looking for the infernal Troll which was wandering the school, and attempted to fool her when they entered the Common Room, flushed and panting heavily. Besides that, there was a _Troll_ in the _school_, it was absolutely disgraceful, in her time, no such foolishness would have occurred. Just thinking about it caused her to sniff angrily.

How exactly the creature had managed to enter the school, was still unknown to Albus and herself, unless it was the one under the school, but that was impossible. After all it was widely accepted that Trolls were mindless creatures, much too stupid to ever be able decipher Severus Snape's riddle, or Albus Dumbledore's test. So, that must mean that someone must have aided the beast into school, and someone must have dealt with it also.

With such thoughts floating around in her head, Minerva settled herself more comfortably in her chair, the muscles in her back clenching tightly before relaxing. That was of course when her floo was activated, and the Headmaster's voice echoed in the once silent room.

"Minerva?" the man called, and his tone seemed weary yet somewhat satisfied to the Deputy Headmistress, but his paradoxical tone did nothing but exacerbate her irritation at being interrupted. So with a soft sigh, she pushed herself from her chair, ignoring her protesting bones as she knelt by the fire.

"Honestly, why did he not send a patronus, at least that way I could have remained comfortable," she grumbled quietly, however she was under no impression that the man hadn't heard her, as soft chuckling was being emitted from the other end of the floo-connection.

"Exercise is good for the body Minerva," Albus jovially stated, and the witch had to restrain herself from snarling at him. "However we're about to discover who put the Troll into the school, and who defeated it!"

That was enough to still the witch's sharp tongue, as her hazel eyes widened. "Well then, move aside!" was all she said, before reaching for the floo-powder.

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><p>Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape decided, was as much as an open book as her pathetic House. <em>'Oh, she may believe that her stern expression hides her emotions, but she would be wrong. The flaring of her nostrils bely her annoyance, and the brief upturning of her lips showed the fleeting happiness she deigns appr<em>_opriate for the current situation.'_

"Who was it, Albus?" she questioned eagerly, whilst hurriedly seating herself in one of the disastrous armchairs. She was oblivious to the Potions Master standing at the side of the room, as her eyes were trained only upon the elderly wizard opposite.

"Well Minerva, I must admit that I myself do no know yet, however Severus," the Headmaster prompted, by sweeping his flamboyant robe-clad arm towards the man in question, "here does know, however he refused to tell me until you came."

The feline animagus pursed her lips, whilst gazing mistrustfully at the Slytherin. "Severus, do tell us."

A wide satisfied grin crossed Severus' face, much to the startlement of the other two present. "Oh, I would _love_ to just tell you, however I doubt you would believe me," he smoothly said, inwardly sneering at the two Gryfindors. "And so, I have taken the liberty of using memories, so that no argument can occur. Of course, since both of the party are under-age no veritaserum could be used, however they both agreed to the use of their memories instead."

"Hurry up with it man!" the Head of the Lions demanded, _'Impatient, impatient Minerva,'_ he tutted to himself, before swiftly removing three phials from his voluminous robes. "Who is the first memory belonging to?" she asked, as Dumbledore took the offered phial and poured it into his pensieve.

"Samael Lestrange, he _stumbled_ across something quite _interesting_," was the smug reply, and gleeful onyx orbs watched as both the senior members of staff, entered the silver liquid. _'Oh, I do not want to miss the looks on their faces when they see the second memory; I should give Samael two hundred House Points, how brilliant he is,'_ Severus thought to himself.

The memory Samael had presented was one which was heavily modified. The Lestrange heir had needed assistance from a Master Leglimens to actually perform his task, and so had (of course), sought help from their resident Potions Master. The memory itself wasn't hard to modify, since no falsification had to be fabricated, no, all Samael wanted was for Severus to _bend the truth _as it were. He had just wanted to remove some of the more _incriminating _topics of conversations which had taken place.

The difficult part, (which even a Master Leglimens struggled with), was to ensure that no-one could tell the memories had been altered. Normally a coloured haze would wash over the memory at the point the memory had been tampered with, the colour (of course) depending on what had changed (purple for removal of events, orange for obliviation, green for addition of events, and so on and so forth). So by the time Severus had completed Samael's request, he was exhausted, but it was nothing a quick pepper-up potion couldn't fix.

It wasn't long until the ashen faces of Albus and Minerva returned from their trip down memory-lane; Albus wearing a saddened expression, and Minerva with a defiant one. Sensing the oncoming tongue-lashing from the Head Lion, Severus merely smirked a the witch. "Potter and Weasley may not have actually rescued Miss Granger, however their hearts were in the right place," the woman attempted to justify, however was cut short by the Headmaster, which caused Severus' brows to rise into his hairline.

"No, Minerva. Mr Potter, and Mr Weasley knowingly left Miss Granger, to what could have been ultimately been her demise, if they had gone to get help from the staff, then I may have overlooked this, but I cannot let this just slide by unnoticed," he gravely informed. _'I never thought that he would agree so early on,'_ the Potions Master mused, _'it's probably because I am here, otherwise they would have merely cast a blind-eye.'_

The witch narrowed her eyes in disapproval at the decision, yet did not reply to the Headmaster. "The second memory, Severus," she commanded stiffly, frowning as the tall man complied with something reminiscent of a grin. "I hope that this actually tells us something."

"Oh, yes, Minerva," he purred, whilst stalking towards the magical object. "Mr Longbottom shall reveal all the facts in due time, however I do not know if your _feeble_ heart could stand the revelations."

"Stop the degrading comments Severus, and let Albus and I see the Merlin-forsaken memory!" the witch demanded irately, before bristling even further as the Potions Master merely smirked at her. _'Oh, she's so easy to rile,'_ Severus thought with amusement, whilst pouring the second memory into the pensieve.

"This memory – is mine; and whilst I know that Minerva doubts the reliability of the entirety of my being, I know that none of you can disagree with my memory since memories cannot lie," the wizard drawled, sneering as Minerva gasped in outrage. "Now, if you would please enter the pensieve, then you could learn the culprits sooner, and I can delight in the punishment they will all be served."

And without further adieu, Severus swiftly entered the silver substance, and the disorientation that pervaded him was one which could hardly be compared, for his stomach churned, mind whirled, and knees shook with the weight they bore. _'Perha__ps,'_ the man idly noted, _'it is a punishment for dwelling where the mind needs not? After all, if you stray too long in the past, then you're – oh Merlin no, I'm sounding more and more like that crackpot each day.'_

_'Speaking of crackpots.'_ Soft rustling behind the Potions Master, informed him of the other two's arrival, and he had to bite down an annoyed scowl. The man was avidly anticipating the docking of the Lion-house's points, but he wished that in order to do so, he wouldn't have to show the two senior members of staff his rooms. _'Even if I hardly ever use my quarters, __this__ is my sanctuary when I cannot escape this terrible place,'_ he thought, as he eyed his memory-self reading a dusty, wizarding tome.

A loud knocking at the door, startled the two Gryffindors, and they watched as the other Severus scowled whilst marking the page he was reading with a bookmark. _'And Minerva is staring at my arm, ha, I bet that she's disappointed that she cannot see the Dark Mark; as if My Lord was st__upid enough to let his most trusted get caught by the Aurors_,' the man thought, smirking at the witch's disappointment.

"Ah, Mr Lestrange," Severus heard himself say in his characteristic, silky tones. "You seem to have brought me Mr Longbottom; I am not in need of a test-subject today, however I thank you for your offer." The child only smiled brightly at him _'I should have realised from then that he was up to something; when does Samael flash the 'I'm an innocent little school-boy'__ look, if it is not part of some ulterior motive.'_

"But Severus," Samael sweetly said, whilst quickly placing his cane in front of the door. "I found this lost little lion, and he has such _interesting _things to say." Past-Severus raised an eyebrow at the child, before opening the door wider.

"Very well Samael, but if Longbottom ruins my quarters with his mere presence, then I am holding you personally responsible." A delighted laugh only met his words, as the small Slytherin led the terrified Gryffindor to a small chaise. "Now, why have you invited the walking disaster here?"

The Lestrange only grinned at the man, before laying his cane across his knees. "What? No tea, Severus? Your hospitality is lacking, perhaps I should tell Aunty Narcii, and she can instruct you on how to be a proper host." Emerald eyes saw the twitching of the Potion Master's jaw, and smirked. "I am just pulling your leg, Severus, you are (and shall forever remain) the snarky man, we all know and love!"

_'The sneaky snake,'_ Severus thought, whilst surreptitiously glancing at the chuckling Albus, and smiling Minerva. _'he's convincing those two, that he's an angel,(a cheeky, impertinent angel granted, but an angel nonetheless). How long was he planning this?'_

"Samael, if you continue, I will not hesitate to use you as potion ingredients."

"Now, now, Severus, we all know that my Mother would dismember you before you could even move," it was said teasingly, but none could mistake the seriousness in the boy's eyes. _'And now he's telling th__em that he does not respond kindly to threats – he is probably the best Slytherin I've ever seen.' _"Let us get back to the topic of hand, shall we? How does, Slytherin winning the House Cup for an eighth year running, (and Gryffindor falling into lowly last place), sound to you?" A smirk spread across the child's face, one that both Severus' matched with vigour.

"I would say that that would be most joyous Samael," Severus stated, whilst finally taking a seat in an armchair opposite the chaise; ignoring the squeak from the Gryfindor. "However, how would this happen? Merlin knows that Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore won't accept a sudden drop in Lion house points."

"Ah, well not even they will be able to contend what has happened, after all it was an obvious breach in school-safety; many could have been seriously maimed or killed," he stated matter-of-factly, before turning wide emerald eyes upon the boy next to him. "Longbottom here, was witness to it all, so he shall tell you the details."

Said Gryffindor 'eeped' in fear as Severus turned questioning eyes upon him, and Samael merely patted him gently on the back. "It will be okay Longbottom, Severus shall not hurt you," he reassured the child, smiling as he felt the Lion relaxing at his words. "Well, not whilst we are in school anyway."

Rolling his eyes at the Lestrange (who was acting more like Andras than his usual self), the memory Severus thought it best to interrupt the Slytherin, or he wouldn't be able to discover the elusive reason for such a massive reduction in Gryffindor house points. "Samael, do stop scaring the Lion otherwise he'll be worse than a flobberworm on a hot day," the man dictated, watching as a facsimile pout crossed the child's face.

With little difficulty, (and more than enough practised ease), Samael rose to his feet, before leaning on his cane. "I do think I shall take my leave Severus," the Lestrange murmured, "Be nice to the little lion, he is being extremely brave with what he is doing. Longbottom is, for the lack of better words, the ultimate Gryffindor. Do not scoff at me," he softly said, "a Gryffindor is rash, yes, imbecilic, most definitely, but most importantly of all, they are _noble_. Longbottom has the strongest morals I have ever seen, and he should be applauded for them, not constantly beaten down by the idiotic congregation called his House," he stated with disgust, "the way both the Potters treat them is despicable, what I wouldn't do to-"

"I understand, Samael," Severus quickly interrupted, after all it wouldn't do for Longbottom to overhear something that he wasn't meant to. "I will give him a calming draught if needed. What about you however? Are you in need of any more potions?" _'You are showing these two, that you are not just a 'slimy Slytheri__n', and you are also convincing them that __I__ am a caring adult and __not__ a Death Eater. Five hundred points to Slytherin.'_

"No, I am faring quite well, thank you. The flaring is less painful and frequent than it used to be, and I can live with it," Samael answered, whilst shifting on his feet. "Besides I will not become dependent upon pain-relieving potions; imagine it, the Lestrange heir unable to continue through a day due to lack of potions in his vicinity – how unbecoming!" His scandalised tone and his affronted expression looked quite strange upon his face.

"Yes well, if you are in ever need of anything just contact myself or Narcissa."

"Duly noted Severus, I presume that applies to Draco as well? The stupid snake that he is," Samael said, yet his mutterings held an undercurrent of fondness.

"Yes, they apply to Draco also," came the grudging answer.

"You are upset with him, because of me. No, let me be more specific, you are angry at him, due to what he has obviously said about me."

"He had no right to say what he did!" Severus declared furiously, "He knew exactly what has happened to you, and yet he dared to demean your experiences through derogatory words; I thought that Lucius had raised him better, that _I _had raised him better."

Emerald eyes softened, as Samael said. "He is scared Severus, Draco has not had true friends, friends that are his because of his personality, not his money, family, or connections,"

"What? And you have? Samael you cannot forgive him so easily."

"Have you never said anything that you regret Severus? In the heat of the moment, when you are scared, insecure and humiliated? Everyone has Severus, do not be a hypocrite," the child chided gently, "Besides, who said that I was forgiving him? No, no, Severus, you have misconstrued what I have said. Draco will be apologising most profusely for what he has done, and I will not be accepting him until I am sure he understands what exactly he has done wrong," came the flippant remark with a menacing smile, and Severus returned the smile with vigour.

"That is good to hear Samael," the Potion Master murmured softly, as he watched the child leave with soft eyes. _'Oh Merlin, Albus is __twinkling__ at me, and Minerva is staring; my carefully sculpted reputation has been ruined! It will be okay though, Samael and I discussed this, Merlin, __I__ was the one who suggested the idea. The outcomes shall outweigh the sacrifice (hopefully),'_ Severus thought, watching as his past-self sharply enunciated. "Now, Mr Longbottom, why exactly did Samael let you into my rooms?"

"M-My House, they p-planned the Troll," he stuttered out, and his face flushed red in what Severus could only presume was embarrassment. "Robert and Ron – they wanted to pull a big prank, so they asked everyone in the common room, and they all agreed to bringing in some sort of creature. Someone, I didn't see his face, said that there were Trolls in the forest, and that they would follow goats blood if they smelt it, even into school."

"Ah, I see Mr Longbottom, that was very..._Brave_, of you to tell me. I'll need evidence of course, for all I know you may have fabricated all of this for attention-"

"No!" the boy shouted, before squeaking out, "N-No, I don't want the attention, I don't like it. I don't know what I can do to make you believe me though, but Hermione could have been killed, she wasn't at dinner you see, she was in the bathroom, so she didn't hear Professor Quirrel's warning. Hermione could have _died_, we have to take responsibility for our actions!"

"Merlin Longbottom," Severus murmured, whilst pinching his nose. "calm down, or I'll force-feed you a calming draught. Now, there is a simple method of proving whether you are telling truth, I just need your memory of the event."

After several minutes of explaining the process of memory-taking, the Gryffindor nodded jerkily, and complied to Severus' instructions, with a silver strand being the product of his labour. He curtly dipped his chin towards the Gryffindor, and quickly summoned a phial to feed the memory into. Severus motioned for the Lion to stand, and made it clear that he was dismissed, and the Gryffindor rose with shaky feet.

"Wait Longbottom," the Potion Master called, and unsure hazel eyes met Severus' own. "Why exactly did yourself and Samael cross paths?"

"Oh," the boy murmured, "L-Lestrange said that he was following Robert and Ron, and heard them talking about Hermione so he went to find her. Then Hermione asked Lestrange to find me, and I – well – I was in shock, I guess. The troll had just passed by me, and it scared me," he whispered, and lowered his head in shame.

"Ah, I see," the man quietly murmured, and it was quite obvious to all those watching that the man was decidedly uncomfortable. "Not many your age would have stayed conscious when faced with a fully-grown Mountain Troll, Mr Longbottom, so do not doubt yourself; only dunderheads do that." Severus opened the door to the Gryffindor, who nodded jerkily and quickly fled the room.

Disorientation flooded through Severus' body, as he was jerked out of his memory, and back into the present day. However the disapproval, and disbelief written across both Albus' and Minerva's faces managed to vanish all traces of annoyance from his system. Today would be a good day, it was time the Slytherins had their fun.

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><p>"I do not like this Albus," the Scottish brogue of the Transfiguration professor unhappily stated, as she seated herself once more in one of the Headmaster's armchairs. "I-I cannot believe that my Lions would do something like this, that James would allow his son to organise something like this!"<p>

Albus sighed softly, whilst moving himself to his chair. "We cannot jump to conclusions now Minerva," he chided gently, "we do not know if James had known, however I very much doubt that he did since Lily would have berated him for being so idiotic." He allowed himself a small amused chuckle at that thought. "However the evidence is damning, the Gryffindors most certainly did know of the plan to get the Troll in, like Mr Longbottom said to Severus, they _must_ take responsibility for their actions."

Minerva seemed to collapse in her chair with weight of the revelation. "I know Albus, I am not disagreeing with the fact that they need to atone for their actions, they were irresponsible and idiotic, but I do not like what Mr Lestrange implied about Longbottom,"

"That he was a true Gryffindor? Surely not Minerva, the sorting hat placed him in your house, I can hardly believe that you are doubting him. He's just a little nervous about-"

"Albus Wulfirc Percival Brian Dumbledore, you are wrong!" she curtly interrupted, "I would never label my students in such a way, but Lestrange said something about James and Robert's treatment of him. About how it was disgusting; surely James cannot still be so narrow-minded? I mean what I heard of his anger towards Severus-"

"Severus and James have always disliked one another Minerva," Albus quickly assued, "but I'm sure that Mr Lestrange must have merely misinterpreted an incident between James and Mr Longbottom. Speaking of Severus, did you see how happy he was to see Mr Lestrange? It seems as if they have been friends for quite a while," Albus commented happily, and he beamed a smile so large that it nearly split his face.

"I noticed that he didn't have the Dark Mark."

"Minerva, really," the old wizard reprimanded, "I would not hire a Death Eater, I would never endanger the students so! Like I have always told you, Severus firmly supports the Light, however you allowed yourself to be swayed by his brooding personality, but it is just his way of protecting himself."

"Yes well," the woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "I admit that I was wrong, but can you really blame me? He has never actively made an effort to be a team-player...Then again, Sirius and James are usually badmouthing him in the staff room," she murmured, before realisation dawned upon her. "Do you think Severus never comes to see us because of the those two?" she asked, and her voice had taken a definite darker turn.

Albus nodded sagely at her, and Minerva scowled at him. "I will not allow it any longer!" she exclaimed in righteous anger, "Severus has suffered long enough from James and Sirius' accusations, and my obstinacy to not believe him – the poor man! It is no wonder why he is so short with us all!"

The Headmaster chuckled softly at her determination, "Severus is a complicated man Minerva, with a very upsetting and dark past, he does not trust easily and I doubt that he will suddenly become friends with you," he advised, whilst smiling as her scowl deepened.

"Then I will have to make sure that he understands. I know! I'll set James and Sirius straight; it's about time that they grew up and stopped tormenting Severus," she announced; not realising that she had been carefully manipulated by an eleven-year old child.

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><p>Draco fought hard not to fidget uncomfortably, for Samael was staring at him, staring and <em>smirking<em>. There was no doubt in the blonde's mind, that the Lestrange's attention was on anyone other than him, since the only thing behind him was the wall, so the Malfoy heir had to try hard not to succumb to the disconcertment which was threatening to overrule his mind.

They had not spoken in weeks, and whenever Samael faced him now his face was an expressionless mask, at least the Potters were given a sneer! He knew that he had fucked his relationship with Samael up, badly, and since he was smart he knew that there was little to no chance of Samael ever forgiving him for his actions.

_'I ignored him, I ignored him when I (more than most ) know how sensitive he truly is. And those words I said to Severus about him – why can I not be more reasonable? Or more socially apt?' _the blonde wondered to himself, chancing a glance full of pain to his former-companion. _'Even if I apologise, he wouldn't accept it, but I should definitely apologise, just perhaps in written-form...No, no, no, no, NO! If I cannot even look into his eyes and apologise, than how can he ever see __the sincerity? Samael is worth ten of me, I should never have did what I did, even if he glares at me when he sees me I'll be happy,'_

Groaning internally at how pathetic he sounded, Draco saw Samael quietly murmur two words in the direction of the Gryffindor table, yet his voice was inaudible over the loud din of the room. The Malfoy also noticed the speculative glances being thrown the Lestrange's way by the majority of the Slytherins, along with an anticipatory smirk sent from Severus. _'Severus would not__ be showing his __emotions so obviously unless he was sure the Slytherin-House would benefit, Samael truly has succeeded.'_

And as if the fates were following Draco Malfoy's train of thought, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat, with a sombre expression marring his usual annoyingly cheerful face. Immediately the children quietened, (having obviously never seen their Headmaster be so serious), and many Snakes watched as a smirk bloomed on both Samael and Severus' face.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and I learnt of some startling and very saddening news last night – the identities of those who let the Troll into school," he began, and whispers immediately erupted from the students' mouths until they were called to quiet. "Now, letting a Troll into school was a most foolish idea, we were all endangered, and one girl came very close to death. With that in mind I award Hermione Granger ten points for defeating the Troll."

Raucous applause and cheers met his words, and uncertain glances were being aimed at the still smirking Lestrange, since those who were well apt with mathematics understood that the Gryffindor House was now in the lead, with the Slytherins third, three points behind Ravenclaw.

_'Oh Merlin, please do not let Samael's prediction be wrong! __He wrote with his magic, his magic! Such a reckless thing to do, he could lose his magic, I cannot let that happen to him!'_ Draco thought desperately, and his panicked silver eyes caught curious emerald ones, and he could only hope that his meaning was clear in his eyes. _'I am sorry, I'll stay by your side no matter what.' _And the Malfoy hoped that the widening of Samael's eyes, meant that he understood.

"However, I am ashamed to say that alongside Miss Granger's quick thinking and spectacular wand-work, the culprits themselves attend this school. They have been walking amongst you, uncaring for the havoc they caused, and the damage done to many parts of the school," the Headmaster's grave and pained voice continued, and the students were deathly silent.

"It disheartens me to say that seventy-five points apiece shall be removed from the instigators of the idea, along with fifteen from those who knew yet didn't inform any member of staff. So with great pain, I remove three-hundred and fifteen points from Gryffindor." The response was immediate, to put it lightly. The Hufflepuffs looked shocked and almost betrayed, the Ravenclaws blinked in surprise whilst whispering quietly to one another, and the Gryffindors were silent, with looks of anger and guilt written across their faces.

Smirks wormed their way onto all of the Snakes faces, increasing with intensity, when one sixth-year shouted out that the Lions were one-hundred and twenty-one points in the negative. It truly was beautiful, and the looks Samael was being given were ones close to reverence. However the Headmaster hadn't finished, and his next words caused Samael's eyes to widen in surprise. "I am however happy to say, that Mr Samael Lestrange ignored the rivalry between his House and Gryffindor House, and went to the aid of two people who were not his friends, and for this I reward Slytherin House five points."

"We're in first place!" "204 points!" "We beat the Ravenclaws!"

The urge to wrap the small Slytherin in his arms was overwhelming, and only his breeding as a Malfoy prevented him form doing so. _'I can however speak to him,'_ he thought, whilst beating down his nerves and fighting the most persuasive voice in his head screaming at him to run away. Hastily, he cast the silencing spell, and all of Samael's attention was focused on him; his emerald eyes glancing blankly at him, with a single eyebrow risen in question.

"S-Samael, I am _so_ very sorry!" the blonde stuttered out, and his eyes lowered to his knees, until he remembered that the Lestrange had to see his sincerity. "I-I said terrible things, _unforgivable _things about you to Severus, I was just scared. Scared that I had gotten so close to you, that I relied upon your company so much, became so jealous when you spoke well of others. I was – _wo__rried_ that you would forget about me, and I was scared that if I attempted to acknowledge our relationship as something more than companions then you would reject me."

His eyes were locked onto the emeralds of Samael's, and he couldn't tell what the other was thinking, but he forced down his fear and continued regardless. "I was just so _scared__,_Samael, that I forgot about how scared you must be also, about how foreign this is to you also. I am not expecting you to forgive me Samael, because I know that I must have caused you to doubt yourself, and I know how much you would have hated it, how much it would have frightened you. So no, I don't want you to forgive me, I just want you to know that you should never doubt yourself. _You _are the most astounding person I have met, and probably them most amazing person to have ever lived."

"Have you quite finished?" the cold tones, caused the blonde to freeze, and nod stiffly at the other. "It frightens me that you know so much about me, that you have noticed me enough know how I feel, and how I react, but it also warms me Draco. I understand why you lashed out and said whatever you said to Severus, I understand and I accept that, however I am _hurt _that you did not speak to me." _'I know Samael, I know, and I cannot see__k forgiveness.'_

"Your fear for me rejecting your _friendship_ was a relevant one, as I know that you must have taken my words back at your Manor to heart. However, from our weeks apart I have realised that we have already crossed the boundary between companions and friends, Draco, you stupid snake. It worries me that I depend on you so much, that I experience unknown and unwanted emotions when with you, and yet I cannot spend time away from you. I may have said that I was upset that you did not speak to me, but in actuality I was upset that you were avoiding me. I know you were terrified, but I-I was also," the Lestrange's voice began to break, and Draco cursed quietly to himself, at how heart-broken Samael sounded.

"I was terrified that we would never enjoy those contented silences again, never enjoy the times where you would just talk when you knew that I could not bear to be alone. _You_ are one of the only people to accept me for who I am; you didn't have to like me, you didn't have to go out of your way to protect me, and care for me, and yet you did. So, when you did not speak to me, I grew bitter, I thought you were just like my parents, that you had _abandoned _me." Samael's eyes were bright yet no tears fell, and with startling clarity Draco realised that those _monsters_ must have ingrained the fact that Samael would never receive help if he wept.

"Oh Circe, I am so sorry, I-I never wanted this to happen," Draco murmured, smiling sadly at how broken he sounded. "I am so sorry Samael, you did not deserve to be afflicted by my fears, you are so much more than me-"

"I forgive you," Samael murmured softly, and Draco stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the boy. "I forgive you, my Dragon."

"No! You shouldn't! I did despicable, inexcusable things; you shouldn't forgive me at all!"

Samael's expression was one that could only be described as relief, "And that is why I forgive you Draco, because you are such a kind soul when it comes to me, I would never have forgiven anyone else for my mistreatment – only you, Dragon, only you."

_'Only me? Oh Merlin, I'm one of the only people he trusts, and I am __never__ going to hurt him again, __never.'_ "We're friends then?" and he hated how hopeful his voice sounded, until he realised that _this_ was Samael, and Samael would never betray him.

A soft smile curled Samael's features at him, before he opened his mouth to speak: "Yes, we are friends." _'I don'__t deserve this.'_ An uncertain smile took over Draco's face, and he stiffened when he realised that the two of them were the subject of many stares.

"They adore you now, you know," Draco said roughly, inclining his head toward the Snakes, and a wide, predatory smirk stretched across Samael's face. A smirk of inclusion. _'Oh, dear Merlin, how much I have missed him,'_

"Good," he purred out, "so they should, I have just secured our standing in the Snake-Pit."

"Our?" he echoed, "Surely not, you were the one who imagined this up," Draco protested.

"Ah, but I got the idea from you. When you were taking the Weasel down a couple of pegs, you mentioned how terrible their treatment of Longbottom was, and Longbottom was the key to this success," Samael replied, and Draco chanced a glance to where the forlorn Gryffindors were, and saw that the chubby boy was the only Lion with a smile on his face.

"'Everyone should gather all the facts before deciding whether to dismiss someone or not,'" Draco quoted Samael with a smile, "Merlin, I've missed you."

* * *

><p>It wasn't long until the news of Samael and Draco's reconciliation met the ears of the staff and other Houses, many were unaffected by the news, however some were happy to see the sparkle back into the two boys' eyes, and others were angered to see the two back together, certain that they were corrupting each other. The two Slytherins in question had of course noticed the talk, however had filed the information away for later use if needed.<p>

With the two together once more, the Draco's seemingly endless influence alongside Samael's charming façade, benefited the two in furthering their reach. Many students from all ages and Houses thought of them as two boys whose personalities were lovely and kind, however those in the Snake-Pit saw their frigid smiles and sinister smirks, and knew that the Malfoy and Lestrange were a force to be reckoned with.

The winter holidays had quickly approached, and both Draco and Samael had both signed up to go home, not wanting to be near Dumbledore and his Muggle 'Christmas' traditions. For Samael it would be the first December he remembered, where he was safe from Vernon's ire, and Dudley and Petunia's taunting, and his new family were determined to make it special for him.

They exited the train together, and the biting chill of the air caused their pale complexions to immediately turn rosy, regardless of their thick, ermine-furred cloaks. The blonde child whisked his friend to where he knew their mothers would be standing in a secluded, shadowed corner of the platform, and a large smile spread across his face the further from the crowds they went. For Draco knew exactly what present his Mother and Aunt Bella had gotten Samael, and he could hardly wait to show Samael.

As soon as Bellatrix spotted her son, she pulled him into her arms, smiling beatifically when his thin arms wrapped themselves around her back. "I've missed you so much, my little one," she whispered, and the boy nodded his head into her robes.

"And I you Mother," he murmured somewhat stiffly; Bella knew that her show of affection had startled him, however she was glad to see that his time at school had increased his emotional-range enough to allow her to hug him. Severus might have warned her against hugging him four months ago, however she could hardly contain herself when she saw him.

Samael's lips quirked when he saw Narcissa bemoaning Draco on the shortness of his hair, despite the fact that he had acquiesced with her request to stop gelling it. "Alright, I know that Yule is not for a few days, however Narcii, Draco and I have your present now, and we would so dearly love to show you," Bella announced, and a strange sensation flooded through him.

Oh, he knew that his parents (his Mother) especially loved him, but it was still quite foreign and surreal for him to actually be given something. He had accepted that the most he would be given at Christmas was a tin of soup with a roll of bread, that was a simple fact whilst at the Dursleys, and Samael strived himself on knowing the facts.

He may not have received a formal education whilst he was younger, however he poured himself over an old calligraphic kit he found in the attic, and spent all his free time reading his way through all of the books in the house, and (when he could sneak away), the local Library. He could of course never take any books out, however the Librarian hardly ever saw him due to his light-footedness and small-frame, and he did his best to remain quiet, it was (after all), no use if he was thrown out of his only source of information.

Samael would immerse himself in the Library, he would lose himself in Muggle history, their revolutions, their wars, their achievements, and he would read about the reasons _why_. Why the human brain is so vital, why a person cannot live without their heart, why a child killer is so devastating. The reasons fascinated him, and he prided himself on knowing the facts; knowing the facts was how he survived. Without the facts, he was uninformed, and that was..._not _to be borne.

Draco's eager smiling eyes drew Samael out of his past, and he nodded numbly to his family. "Yes, that would be most appreciated Mother," he answered, whilst glancing at his friend and aunt. "Thank you – all of you."

"Oh, nonsense love!" Bella beamed, whilst placing Samael's arm upon hers, preparing him for the side-along apparation which was to come. "Both Narcii and I, had much fun in _collecting_ the little beasts." _'Beasts? She cannot mean?'_ the boy thought, before glancing up and seeing the bloodthirsty glint in her eyes. _'By Merlin, she does!' _However before Samael could study his emotions, Bella apparated them away.

"Be quiet!" Bella snarled as soon as they arrived, and Samael saw what his Mother was sneering at – Petunia Dursley. The once prim and proper woman was huddled into the furthest corner of a cell, where the rough stone walls, hid mold in their crevices, leaked unidentifiable liquids, and kept secrets best not told.

The woman was still wearing relatively clean clothing, so Samael deducted that the woman had not been in his Mother's _care_ that long. "I hope you do not mind love, but Narcii and Draco will be taking care of this scum, whilst we have the other. That doesn't upset you does it?" she enquired, and Samael could genuinely hear the worry in her tone.

"Other?" he questioned hoarsely, as he felt as if his heart was thundering like a stampede in his chest, and his mind was swimming madly with thoughts; he felt delirious. _'This cannot be happening; Bella cannot be wi__shing me to __kill__. I have dreamt of this day for years, the day when I __finally get my revenge, however I had thought that it would be in years not months, when I knew more spells, more curses, I was something __more__. My Mother cannot be genuinely wishing for __me to lose the only innocence I have retained over the decade I spent with those scum-'_

"Yes, the man," Bellatrix's curt voice cut into Samael's thoughts, "the person who scarred my little boy, the person who is the reason why my little one walks with a cane, _that beast_!" she vehemently declared, yet her passion did nothing to stoke his internal fire.

_'Did I not tell Draco that I do not glamour the scars, because they are the reason why I remain on my crusade to purge the Earth of scum like this? I once h__ated those three with every iota of my being, I wanted to torture them within an inch of their life, why do I not feel the same?'_ thought Samael, _'Can I even claim to have innocence any longer? No child should have had to suffered through what I have had t__o, I am no more innocent that my brother himself. Can I kill Vernon? Yes, most definitely. Why does that not make me happy? I once fuelled myself with the thought of murdering him, why am I not hap – Oh, I get it now.'_

And Samael truly _did _ understand now, and a bubble of laughter escaped him at the realisation. _'I once thought that killing them would make me content, but I am already content, Vernon Dursely's death is just the proverbial icing on the cake! The fact of the matter is that I do not think the__m important enough in my life to care! Oh, how beautiful!'_

"Samael? Did you want to take care of them both?" Bella asked quietly, and the boy shook his head with a small smile.

"No, no, let Draco and Narcissa take care of the woman; now let us hurry, you must be eagerly anticipating the screams," Samael answered giddily, and absently thought that Magical Influence must be occurring, because it shouldn't be possible for all this blood-lust to solely belong to him. So with a beaming smile, Bella led Samael a couple of feet down the corridor to another cell. A cell where Vernon Dursley stood, shouting abuse at the door.

"A silencing charm?" Samael questioned lightly, watching as the man's only anger seemed to grow at seeing a child taunting him. An amused grin made its way onto the child's face, before he entered the cell, where his ears were immediately assaulted by the man's furious words. A lazy spell from behind Samael struck the man in the chest, and he fell to the floor. "Thank you Mother," the Lestrange said, glancing towards the woman who was glaring at the Muggle.

"You filthy little freaks! I bet you're just like that freaky woman, aren't you boy? I bet she taught you all about her freakish ways!" The man spat out, and Samael felt something inside of him snap at Vernon's words.

With quick movements, the boy had backhanded Vernon sharply across the face. "Do not dare presume to insult my mother, you filthy Muggle!" Samael snarled, after losing all traces of amusement he previously possessed. "Filthy abomination!" Samael's face was full of righteous anger, and he knew that Bella's would be one of enraptured happiness.

"You're not even going to deny having such disgusting immoral powers? You little fre-" the man attempted to scream, yet was stopped as another red hand-print now adorned his other cheek as Samael slapped his face with a resounding 'crack. "Why you little! If you were if my care then you would be facing the end of my belt quicker than you could blink!" he menaced, yet Samael felt as if his throat had sunk into the pit of his stomach.

_'He doesn't recognise me?' _Samael realised, and pure, unadulterated _anger_ swept through his body. His face twisted into an ugly snarl, as he swiftly fisted the man's shirt so that his furious emerald eyes were burning into Vernon's watery blue. '_He does not recognise the child he beat bloody and senseless time after time, due to his own sick, perverse sense of morals? How __dare__ he not know me, how __dare__ he forget me so quickly!'_

"You do not recognise me," Samael whispered darkly, whilst inadvertently tightening his hold upon the man's shirt. "You truly do not recognise me, do you? DO YOU!" Samael thundered, yet the man only glared at him. "Did you think that my mother just picked a random Muggle from the streets? Did you think you were some _poor_, _innocent_, man, kidnapped by evil people? Do not be so naïve! You should have learnt ten years ago that naiveté would not help you, Merlin knows that I learnt it; Merlin knows, that _I _learnt it because of _you_!" He ripped his hands from the man's clothes and stood to tower over him.

"I don't know what you're talking abou-" Vernon began, but a brown jet of light struck him and he broke down into choking coughs.

"Do not exhaust yourself _Beast, _after all, you are most certainly going to need your strength for the upcoming hours," Bella's saccharine-sweet voice advised from the doorway, yet the man did not remove his gaze from Samael's.

Stabbing the man into the hand with the bottom of his cane, Samael's malice-filled face leant into the Muggle's. "_You_, Vernon Dursley, are here because it is time for your penance; to repent for your sins. Now, do you know who I am?"

"You're a freak with money," the man foolishly declared, "that's all you are, just a dirty, little freak."

"Your feeble attempts at reassuring yourself are almost pitiable Vernon," Samael stated frankly, and his eyes burnt with the intensity of his hate. "I am so much more powerful than you, so much _more _than you, and I could perform things that your insignificant brain could hardly envision. Just imagine it, slowly peeling strips of skin from our body, scraping the flesh from your bones, pressing blinding, scorching hot fire into your blood vessels, and your screaming, by Merlin how beautiful it would sound."

There was no heady anticipation inside Samael as he took in Vernon's horrified eyes, and there was certainly no malicious _delight_ as he withdrew his wand from his robes. His mind was clear, and his purpose was a resolute. _'I'm going to murder Vernon Dursley,' _Samael's mind was almost close to analytical, and the only emotion that wasn't detached from the rest of his conscious brain was his _hatred_. Vernon Dursley had forgotten him, so he was most definitely going to ensure that he was the last thing on the Muggle's mind as he departed from this world.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Samael refocused upon the Muggle in question a smiled grimly. "They are relatively slow punishments however, are they not? Would you prefer something quicker? Yes?" Samael answered his own questioned, before leaning onto his cane.

"Perhaps a pneumothorax? They are quite quick, just one strike into your lungs, no? You do not like the sound of that? Then how about ninety-one lashes on your back? Bleeding those rivulets down your skin, aching, festering, _marking_ you, a pretty lattice of scars. Or how about a crushed ankle, so irreparable that you are forced to walk with a cane for the entirety of your life? Shall I starve you? Work you to the bone? Keep you locked in a cupboard? How about it Vernon? Do you still not know who I am?"

"Boy!" the man growled, and Samael only shook his head at the Muggle.

"Will you not learn Vernon? You have a brain somewhere in that head of yours; now, what do

you suppose is going to happen to you?" the Lestrange heir enquired.

A small moan of displeasure, reminded Samael that Bella was still in the room, and from the shifting of robes he could hear, she was growing impatient. _'So bloodthirsty.' _Samael was about to remove put his wand to good use, when something stopped him. A loud, animalistic scream reverberated through the cell, the sound of a woman in a world of pain.

"Tuney?" Vernon whispered quietly, before casting furious eyes upon his former ward. "GIVE HER BACK TO ME, YOU BASTARD!"he demanded, whilst attempting to wrestle his invisible binds from himself. "TUNEY! TUNEY! _PETUNIA!_" Vernon screamed his wife's name until his voice grew hoarse, and even then, her name desperately ghosted across his lips as her screams only increased with tenacity.

_'If there is one thing Vernon loves above all else, it is Petunia and Dudley; Bella did not know this, so she must have just wanted to torture the both of them' _Samael mused to himself, _'even I must admit, that I was not aware that breaking him would be__ this easy. Now, let us see if we can shatter him completely.'_ "Where is Dudley?" he questioned his mother, and her intoxicated eyes assured the boy of the woman's addiction to screams.

"The boy?" she murmured, whilst tilting her head to the side as if she was lost in thought. "I may have left him with the Thestrals-"

"N-no-not my D-Dudders as well? P-p-please, I'll do anything, just please spare my son! Please Harry please! I-I knew that you would hurt us, I h-had to get rid of you before you infected us, please! Please don't hurt him!" Vernon cried out, and his stricken gaze tore into Samael's resolve. _'He never cared for anyone before; he was certainly proud of Dudley, but it was Petunia who dote-, oh no, I am incorrect. After all, who was the parent who gave into all of the boy's wishes, even if it would ultimately harm him?' _ he questioned himself, whilst frowning at the man prostrating before him as realisation stuck him hard in the face.

_'The answer was before me the whole time! Vernon is __not__ an uncaring, he__artless bastard! No, he is a malleable, adoring parent, and if the Dursleys are __caring__ parents, then what are the Potters? Vernon and Petunia were protecting their son from a dangerous predator – myself, and I can...__respect__ that, but then what excuse do Li__ly and James have. Nothing. Nothing at all.'_

"Samael?" Bella's voice interrupted, and the boy idly thought that he must pay more attention to his surroundings in future. "What are we doing with the Muggle boy?"

Locking his gaze onto the tear-filled blues of Vernon Dursley, Samael voiced his opinion. He knew that the Dudley wouldn't be harmed, (Bella and Narcissa had a rather soft spot when it came to children – even if they were loud-mouthed Muggles), but the remaining sanity of his captive's mind was figuratively in his hands, and it would not do for the man to be so lost in his own conscious to not feel any pain, would it? "Spare him," he commanded, watching as the Muggle sank in relief.

"Now Vernon, you never did answer any of my questions," Samael murmured, whilst lightly fingering his wand. "Ah well, it does not matter; _frango fibula_.'and even though the sound of Vernon's thigh-bone breaking was obscenely loud, and his grunt of pain even more so, Samael could not rouse an ounce of joy for the situation. The sick revelations of the past half-hour playing heavy on his mind.

And when Vernon's body lay, broken, bruised and bloody on the cold stone ground, with his viscous Muggle blood practically painting the Lestranges and the walls, Samael couldn't bring himself to smile. So instead, he wept. The hot liquid stung his eyes, before it erupted into two trails which led down his stark-white cheeks, and the boy hardly felt his mother's arms around him, whilst she rocked him in her arms, whispering about how 'crying was weak emotions leaving the body.' He wasn't aware of the lachrymose smile which flitted across his face, as three pained words escaped his lips.

"He is dead."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, don't I feel like a bitch? On another note, I'm quite proud of how quick this was updated! :)

A massive thanks to my beta as usual, so thank you ZoeyRowan! :D

In response to the question I asked last chapter, (about speeding them plot up), I got quite a few mixed responses, however I have decided to speed up but not by too much :)

Dear anonymous reviewer (DVJD); ah, hello! First off, thanks for the review :) Secondly, I checked Harry Potter Wiki, and even though they do not explicitly describe Blaise as Italian, they do suspect that his surname has Italian origins :)

Oh, and another general question: does anyone actually read the quotes at the beginning of each chapter, or google/youtube them?


	14. Double Murder and Yuletide Celebrations

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>Double murder and Yuletide Celebrations.<span>

_Shadow I cast, well, it weighs more than my soul;_

_It's the only proof that I am here at all;_

_I will cordially invite you if you promise to accept;_

_Under no uncertain terms will you be second best._

_Endless Grey – Young Guns_

* * *

><p><em>Saturday 21<em>_st__ December 1991_

Hastily the man left the cosy warmth of his heated car, and stepped into the biting winds of Somerset winter. How he wished that he could be wrapped tight in the delightful warmth of his girlfriend's arms, yet he had to leave her on their anniversary night; Rita was understandable annoyed. Jonathan Banks truly did despise his job sometimes, especially at Christmas time.

It had been a busy past couple of weeks at work; the excited anticipatory climax to Christmas (which the majority of the nation experienced), had neglected a select few people, leaving them alone, depressed and suicidal. Of course, many did not act upon their thoughts, but a fair number had, leaving him to clear them up off of the ground.

The should-be snow-white perfection of the field across from him was ruined by the numerous footsteps, marring its surface. The frost-tinted shrubbery held little cheer, and the unmistakable sight of the SOCO tent just beyond the small kissing gate tainted the scene more than anything else could.

The small tent surrounded by yellow tape, had (in effect) ruined what should have been an idyllic picturesque winter wonderland, and it just seemed terribly _wrong_ to him, alongside the men and women bathed in polythene leisurely walking around the scene, clutching small plastic bags to their chests, whilst conversing amongst themselves. It was all terribly wrong, then again, a double murder on Christmas Eve did tend to do that to someone.

"Sir!" a voice exclaimed, and the man physically had to restrain himself from lunging at his assistant. It was _perturbing_ how excited the sergeant would get once confronted with a dead body, perturbing, disrespectful, and _wrong_. "Oh, it's absolutely ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! A double murder, a couple, a Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Their jewellery, clothes and money are still with their bodies, so I doubt that it was a mugging, but then again, the bodies are terribly revealing in themselves..." the young man trailed off, and DCI Banks wished to himself (not for the first time either), that he had a more sensible and respectful sergeant than Sergeant Devon.

"You are presuming it was personal?" the detective questioned, whilst striding towards the tent; he didn't need to strain to hear the hurried shuffling behind him – Sergeant Devon would never sacrifice the chance to see the victims again.

"Oh yes sir! Most definitely! It looks as if they've been bludgeoned to death, what with all the blood and bruising, but the coroner believes that there is another cause of death. Of course, we won't know the actual reason until the autopsy comes in, but she did say that she was worried about the strange scarring on their heads, she said something about some sort of infection. But the words are strange in themselves, sir, their child was found with the bodies. He's a little shaken up, but nothing worse for wear, so I don't see how the words upon the Dursleys' bodies make any sense, the boy is unharmed. He is however, extremely rude, I don't know if I have ever come across someone as rude as he is, it surely is disastrous for this country if the younger generation don't even stop to listen to their elders. I mean, if my father-"

"Devon!" Banks shouted loudly into the sergeant's face, causing several of the SOCO's to glance up and send sympathetic grimaces in his direction. "Do stop your incessant babbling right this instant! Now, explain to me – slowly, and with as little words as you can manage, who found the bodies, what is their estimated time of death, and what is this god-forsaken scarring you were nattering about!"

There was no embarrassment or repentance displayed upon Sergeant Devon's face, in fact, the younger man merely smiled at his superior. "Of course sir. This old biddy found the bodies when she was walking this vicious little Westie – nearly bit my arm off it ruddy did!" A cleared throat, and pointed look was directed upon the young man. "The woman, Ethel Morgan, hurried back to her house and rang the police. Coroner reckons that they've been dead at least eighteen hours, but again she can't tell us the exact time of death until she's done the report. But the really interesting thing is the words on the corpses' bodies," he explained, excitement shining in his baby blue eyes.

They were at the entrance of the tent now; another five more feet and he would to encounter a further two more dead bodies to the countless he had had the misfortune to see from his decade in the police service. He had seen many bodies, and witnessed the results of many deaths, however the corpses of Vernon and Petunia Dursley had to be one of the most gruesome one's he had ever beheld. Bile burned the back of his throat at the sight of Vernon's chest splayed open, with his entrails pooling around his body, whilst the bruised and battered form of Petunia, whose mouth was open in a silent scream caused him to flinch away.

"Can you see the words, sir? They're right there on their foreheads," Devon excitedly explained whilst pointing an unnecessary finger at the congealed bloodied words. "'Child abuse', that's what it says sir, but their son doesn't seem to have been abused at all! It's all terribly interesting isn't it sir?"

"Interesting is not the word I would use Devon, but yes, it is slightly strange," he enunciated slowly, and his mind churned with possibilities.

"How do we proceed?" Devon's unusually sombre voice asked.

With a firm voice, the detective inspector answered. "We question the son once he's been okayed by the medics; we're going to get to the bottom of this one way or another." However, the man didn't know if he would be prepared for the answers, after all, the severity of the Dursleys' death couldn't possibly lead to anything good.

* * *

><p>"Is something bothering you darling?" the blonde woman enquired softly from the bed; concern edged her voice, and a worried look crossed her face, as she took in her boyfriend's tense shoulders. Jonathan sighed at her words, yet couldn't help but smile; Rita was (in Jonathan Bank's opinion), the most amazing woman he could have ever met. She was kind, caring and witty, and he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her; yet there was just something <em>more<em> about her, something almost _magical_. He always felt that there was something hidden beneath her surface, akin to electricity crackling, something wild, and something more.

"I'm fine Rita love," the man tapered off whilst considering his next words. It was against the rules to inform a civilian of an ongoing investigation, he knew this, but he had told her details of previous cases numerous times before and she hadn't told the press – she was to be trusted. "It's just this case

I'm on, a grisly double murder, but there's something _strange_ about it."

The blonde woman nodded at him to continue, whilst raising a delicate hand to sooth his muscles.

"Go on darling, I'm sure I can handle whatever you're going to say," she softly said, yet a gleam had entered her eyes, a gleam that didn't bode well for the Detective Inspector.

Smiling grimly at her, he continued. "They had...words carved into their heads, accusing them of child abuse, yet their son was perfectly fine, if slightly morbidly obese. So we interviewed the son, and he told us about this nephew that had been living with them since the child was a year old, but the horrible thing was that the son didn't even know his cousin's name despite the fact that they had been living together for nearly a decade! The whole family called this little boy a 'freak', because he could apparently do things that should be impossible, as if he was performing magic, and his _family_," Jonathan spat the word out, as his face darkened in fury, "beat him for it."

Gasping in horror, the blonde woman raised her hands to her face in shock. "T-That's an abomination! How is he? Did you find him?" she fired questions at him, shaking slightly when Jonathan only grew grimmer.

"We searched the house, but there was no sign of him. According to the couples' son, Dudley, the cousin slept in the cupboard under the stairs, and it was _despicable_. We shone a UV light, and there was old blood practically everywhere in that tiny space, on the ratty little cot, on the shelves, on the walls, eurgh, I wish I could murder those bastards myself!" he moaned, whilst burying his head in his hands.

"Y-you didn't find him?" her small voice asked, and Jonathan shook his head once again.

"According to the son, his cousin went missing in June after a particularly nasty beating, Vernon, Dudley's father, beat him within an inch of his life and abandoned him on the streets. We...fear for the worst, Rita, we doubt that he could have survived more than a week with the suspected wounds."

"No," her whisper was barely audible, and Jonathan thought that she was going to be sick, until she seemed to push all of her compassion aside. "What of the boy's parents? Why was the boy left with such monsters?!" she furiously demanded, and Jonathan could only shake his head.

"Some of the boys found an old letter, from an Albert Dumbledore, enquiring about how the child was doing – it was only four lines at the most. Apparently the boy's parents are alive and well, but left the boy to his aunt and uncle. However, what angers me the most, is that they kept the boy's twin!"

"Twins?" she murmured, and Jonathan could see the wheels turning in her head. "The mother was she called Lily?"

Jonathan nodded slowly at her. "Yes, Lily Evans, do you know her Rita? She seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth after 1977, and we cannot find anything on the boy's father-"

"James Potter," she quietly whispered to herself, but Jonathan heard her nonetheless. "By Merlin, they've murdered Harry Potter! Our saviour, they've murdered him! Left him to live with disgusting Muggles, and then left him to die! Those bastards!" she fumed, as her face flushed red with anger and sadness.

"Harry Potter? Is that his name, Harry Potter?" Jonathan hurriedly questioned his girlfriend. "Did you know him Rita? Or his parents, did you?"

"Y-yes, I once spoke to Harry's mother at a charity gala, oh Merlin, they've been going around telling everyone that he has been living secretly and tutored privately, and in reality they've been...? I think I'm going to be sick," she stated, before practically flying from the room, desperately attempting to reach the toilet.

"Rita!" Jonathan worriedly questioned, after knocking tentatively on the bathroom door. "Rita love, are you okay?" The only sounds that he could hear were quiet sobs, and occasional 'thump!'. It was only a matter of minutes before Rita exited the bathroom, her eyes were rimmed red, but her face was set in a determined expression. "Rita?" he asked confusedly, as his girlfriend of two years raised a stick to his face.

"I'm sorry darling, but you cannot be allowed to remember this," she whispered hollowly, as she steadied her grip on the wood. "_Obliviate!_" she cried out, before quickly exiting the room, a determined expression settling across her face; Rita Skeeter was a woman on a mission, and none could bar her path.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday 25<em>_th__ December 1991_

The floo flared to life, and Rodolphus had to fight hard to withhold his grin – Rabastan was coming to stay, and terrible things always had a way of happening when the two brothers were in close proximity. Like the time they vanished the entirety of Bellatrix's battle-dresses in seventh year, or the time they cursed Lucius to stutter for an entire day, or the time they charmed Severus' hair blue when presenting their Lord with his first Potion. _'Oh, the times we had,'_ the elder brother thought happily, whilst smiling at his wife and son.

Rodolphus knew that he wasn't the most intelligent, nor the most charming, however what he lacked in those departments, he made up for in loyalty. _'By Merlin, I sound like a Hufflepuff,'_ He was loyal to only a select few, and the most important of those were his family – Rabastan, Bellatrix, and now Samael. Rodolphus Lestrange now viewed Samael as his own son, as if the boy was the tender of his own loins, and most of that recognition stemmed from how the eleven year-old child had changed Bellatrix.

The happy gleam which he hadn't seen in her eyes since their fifth year was present once again, her delighted laughter once more warmed the halls of Lestrange Manor, and her beautiful sadistic smile once again graced her features, and for that, Rodolphus was eternally grateful. Glancing toward his son, Rodolphus saw that Samael's lips were beginning to twitch upwards into a smile as he quietly watched Bellatrix bouncing excitedly on her feet, _'He's changed quite a__ bit,'_ the man thought, as he noted how relaxed the boy's stance was, compared to his guarded expressions nary six months prior.

"Rodo!" a familiar baritone voice called, and the Lestrange was tackled to the ground by a pair of strong arms. "It's nearly Yule! I can hardly wait for the celebrations, wait till Bella gets a taste of this new spell I learnt, Merlin, it's be-a-utiful!"

"Ahem!" Bella's came amused interruption, and a pair of frightened hazel eyes to rose from to meet her dangerous orbs. "What spell would this be, Rabastan?" she enquired sweetly, smiling as she heard a small chuckle from her son.

"Bellatrix, my love!" Rabastan loudly declared, whilst hurriedly removing himself from his brother's body. "I must be going blind; for I did not see the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon! However could you forgive me, my dear lady? You must punish me, for I have sinned you most grievously," he implored whilst sweeping into a low bow.

"Cease your simpering this instant," she instructed haughtily, whilst absently raking her fingers through Samael's onyx locks. "You wouldn't be able to charm a flobberworm from Severus' hands, even if you wanted to," her dismissive tone mirrored Samael's snort of derision.

"Oh, you wound me so, you heartless witch!" he bemoaned; clutching his chest tightly, whilst loudly asking the fates 'why are the beautiful ones, the most hurtful?'

_'Does he ever change?'_ Rodolphus thought fondly, watching as his younger brother urged Bellatrix to curtsy like a 'proper woman'. _'One would think, that after the years he's had bedding numerous women that he would settle down by now, but no, he's obsessed with women of all ages and marital statuses.'_

"So this is the famous Samael Lestrange then?" Rodolphus heard his brother ask, and he saw that Rabastan was kneeling so that Samael was able to look him in the eyes. "He looks everything like a proper pureblood heir, one would never have guessed his true origins," Rabastan flippantly remarked, and Rodolphus winced at Bella's glare, and then sighed when his brother continued to talk.

"I bet you're fooling everyone at that school aren't you? What with those wide green eyes of yours, angelic face, and expressions as if butter wouldn't melt," Rabastan smirked at the child, before leaning closer. "Tell me, have you pulled any pranks? I've heard that the Weasley twins are mine and Rodo's successors, please tell me that you haven't allowed those blood-traitors to steal the glory of the Snake-House!"

A confused frown marred Samael's so-called 'angelic' face, as he stared confusedly at Rabastan. "I do not know what you could be referring to; as all of the Houses are my friends, I would not ruin our relations by pranking them," Samael answered with an innocent voice.

"Tell me it's not so, Bella! Tell me that he isn't a goody little two shoes! With that attitude the Lestrange name will go to the House-Elves!" _'He didn't just insult Samael in Bellatrix's company did he? Oh, yes he did.'_

Bellatrix's wand was thrust under Rabastan's chin faster than he could blink, the whitening of his skin daring him to comment further. "Do not insult my son, Rab, Samael is everything a mother could hope for in a son, and he with him the Lestrange name will reach dizzying heights," she menaced, digging her wand further into his skin with each word.

Rodolphus knew that his wife would continue to threaten his brother, and had it not been for Samael's small hand on Bella's arm, he knew she would never have stopped. "Mother," his darkly amused voice called, "however much I adore your magic, I have no need for a dead body on the floor for that mere insult. After all, you must forgive him as he is not as acquainted with myself as well as you are."

"Exactly what he said!" Rabastan agreed throatily, and Bella withdrew her wand with narrowed eyes. "Tell me," Rabastan commanded, whilst rubbing at his throat. "why is it that you can speak so easily of the dead?"

"Are you aware of my past, Uncle Rabastan?" Samael enquired curiously, and a soft snarl from the man affirmed the question. "Then you know that I am no stranger to pain; if you had lived your first ten years like I had then you would not fear death. I have been on the brink of such _excruciating_ pain, that the welcoming embrace of Death's arms would have merely felt like a wistful dream."

The furious scowl on Bella's face reminded Rodolphus that his wife was still in possession of her wand, and even though he was aware that the Dursleys were no longer alive, he also knew that Bella wouldn't have to think twice before torturing the Muggles' dead bodies post-mortem. Laying a soft grip on her arm, he shook his head at her and she snarled, however that was no surprise, what was a surprise to Rodolphus however, was the scrutinising expression upon his brother's face.

"You intentionally said it that way didn't you?" Rabastan enquired with suspicion, smirking as Samael only raised an eyebrow at him. "You could have told me that you were not afraid of death, however you talked of your life with those Muggles, which generally only infers one of two things. One, you're attempting to get attention, or two, you wanted to get a rise. And as I doubt you want the former, the latter seems most obvious, therefore I can only presume that you enjoy watching peoples' reactions to shocking situations," the Lestrange concluded shrewdly, frowning as a smile stretched across Samael's face.

"Well, well, well, I must admit that I am surprised. I thought that you were only a prankster, much like Sirius Black, however your deductions amaze me. It is almost a shame that I cannot plan attacks with you, I was hoping that you could be the voice of the lower masses – oh well."

Watching the predatory grin being quickly hidden behind Samael's hand, and Rabastan's worried face, Rodolphus knew that his little brother was about to fall into his son's trap. It truly was a magnificent sight, and one that you wouldn't see another day, so (with a massive grin), Rodolphus took a step back and watched the scene unfold.

"Ah, wait!" Rabastan exclaimed, "I can still help you; like give you advice from the older generation, spells that have gone out of fashion somewhat, to draw less suspicion about yourself." _'Played yourself right into an eleven year-old's hands Rab, admittedly Samael isn't the average elev__en year-old, but still...' _"I need to be able to perform pranks, nephew! I haven't pulled a good one in such a _long_ time, Bella's tamed Rodo, please!"

"Merlin, I do not think that I could ever deny a man begging so prettily at my feet," Samael's amused voice noted, whilst smiling at his uncle. _'Merlin indeed, you're so much like Bella already.'_ "So you may help me."

"Oh yeah!" Rabastan leapt to his feet, and began to bob excitedly on his feet. "Did you hear that Rodo? Your son is going to plot with me! Ha! How d'ya like that then? Now that I've got myself a new pranking buddy!"

"Merlin, you're so immature," Bella sneered, whilst her hands reacquainted themselves with Samael's hair.

"You see Rodo! Can you see how mean she is to me! Defend my honour, or I'll tell Mummy!" Rodolphus had to hide his grin at his brother's actions; Rabastan had folded his arms across his chest, and a childish pout graced his face.

"Why is it Rabastan, that after a mere five minutes of conversation, you regress twenty-five years?" Bella sweetly enquired, and Rodolphus rolled his eye at her behaviour. Rabastan always managed to get under Bellatrix's skin, and Bellatrix always managed to transform the youngest Lestrange brother into a toddler having a tantrum, and after twenty-five years together, Rodolphus was accustomed to it.

"Rodo! Defend me! Tell her that I'm not immature, tell her how mature I am. She just doesn't like the fact that Samael decided to plot with me and not her!"

An almost inhuman shriek escaped Bellatrix's lips at this, and her burning eyes of fury turned their glare onto him. _'Merlin, how beautiful she is when she's angry.'_ "Perhaps my son will tame you Rab."

"Rodo!" Rabastan's vindicated voice exclaimed, "She's turned you into such a sour puss since you met her!"

"Immature."

"You're just jealous because Samael liked me as soon as we met!" Rabastan declared loudly, before striding over towards the boy in question. _'Don't use Samael as a weapon Rabastan, or she'll just-'_

"Well Samael's liked me since he was a child!" Bella shouted, whilst landing a punch on Rabastan's arm.

_'-maim you.'_

"Oh yeah? Prove it!" he prompted, and his grey eyes taunted her into growling at him. "Let us hear Samael tell us exactly who he likes the most-"

"Rabastan; enough!" Rodolphus' firm voice interrupted, and the hard look in his eyes told his brother all he needed to know. Rabastan was as smart as he was childish, and he knew that if he continued with the topic of conversation then Bellatrix would most likely dismember him. So with a quick nod at Rodolphus, Rabastan spoke once more.

"So Bella, how d'ya fancy the Cannons chances of winning against the Harpies?" Rabastan enquired, whilst smiling at his sister-in-law.

Scowling at Rabastan, Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "And pray tell Rabastan," the woman's haughty voice began, "why would I know anything about that insipid game?"

Rabastan only smiled his disarming smile at her. "For I was under the impression that you yourself was a harpy my dear, what with that screeching voice and disfigured fac – oh, ow! Save me Rodo!"

Rodolphus tore his eyes away from Bellatrix chasing her wayward brother-in-law, at the sound of Samael's quiet voice. "He amuses me, and I must wonder whether this is how a true uncle behaves." The man didn't answer his son, only smile tightly, and lead him towards the ritual room.

* * *

><p>Huddled around the large, ostentatiously-dressed Christmas, the Potter family smiled at their good fortune; they had wealth, family and friends – everything anyone would ever wish for, and yet, something was troubling them and James was easy with voicing his concerns.<p>

"But Lils, why can't he come to Hogwarts for the holidays? Why can Harry not come home for Christmas?" James Potter asked, and the exasperated sigh which escaped Lily's lips told him that she was getting annoyed with his questioning. "I really think that he should be here with us!"

"What like he has the past ten years?" Robert scoffed loudly, whilst sneering at his father.

"Robert!" Lily admonished with a sharp glare.

"What? It's the truth!" the eleven-year old defended, "Harry has never been home for the Christmas holidays, so why would he want to now? Maybe he asked Uncle Albus to lie for him!"

"Robert," James sternly said, and matching hazel eyes locked together, "do not say such mean things to your mother."

"Why? It's what I would do if I hadn't seen you for my whole life! I'd be annoyed at you, so angry that you had forgotten about me!"

"Yes, well unlike you Robert, Harry isn't a bitter, selfish little boy. He understands that sacrifices must be made for the Great Good," was Lily's prim statement, missing the hurt that flashed through her son's eyes. "And your father and I haven't forgotten about Harry, we have sent him a letter every Christmas, and he knows that we love him."

"How? How do you know that Harry understands everything that you've just told me? How does he know that you haven't just abandoned him and moved on with your lives! You've never visited him have you? Never sent him a gift! I bet that you didn't even give him a way to contact you!" seeing his parents' guilty look, Robert sneered in disgust. "Eurgh! I'm off to the common room to see Ron; don't bother me!"

Seeing their eldest son fleeing their chambers, Lily turned wide eyes to her husband. "What if he's right, James? What if Harry doesn't want to speak to us? What if my baby never wants to speak to me ever again. James!"

The man's arms wrapped themselves around his wife's shoulders without a second thought. "I'm sure that it's not true, Lily love. Harry is probably keeping his distance so that he can train harder, so that he's well prepared for when Death Eaters begin to act up again. Our son probably just wants to make sure that he can protect us all; just like me."

Lily sniffled loudly, "You're right James, its just that I miss him so much!"

"I know Lily, I miss him too. He's my little marauder, my little Auror, I can't let my Prongslet stay away from us at Christmas for another year! I know! I'll do the tracking spell!"

Lily sat up suddenly, casting an unsure glance at her husband. "Albus told us not to do that," she murmured, whilst nervously fiddling with a loose string on her jumper. "But, I guess if we get our boy back for a day, then it can't hurt."

"That's it m'girl!" James encouraged, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "Just let me get my wand, I'll only be a minute!" The red-headed woman said nothing to her husband, only smiled softly at his departing back, and shook her head at his distant words. "Because as a Marauder, you know that I'll never follow the rules Lils, so Albus must know that I would've tried to search for Harry sooner or later."

"I suppose so," she called, "I doubt that I'll ever get you to change your ways; I gave up on _that _when I married you."

James placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, "That sounds about right Lils, no woman could ever restrain me!" He laughed at her indignant frown. "I'm just joking Lils; now, where was I? Oh yes, _locus Harry Potter_." Nothing happened. "Hmmm? That's strange, there's no string, _locus Harry Potter_." Again, nothing happened. James turned his confused eyes upon Lily's wide, frightened ones.

"Oh James!" she wailed, gripping the sides of her face with her shaking palms. "He's dead; the spell doesn't work if the person's dead!"

"Don't be silly, Lily," James chided gently, "Albus wouldn't endanger Harry _that _badly, I'm sure that it's just because of the protections he's under. Don't worry your little head about it. Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived; he's bound to be under loads of wards which prevent detection spells."

Lily smiled a watery smile at her husband. "Of course," she breathed relievedly, "of course, what on Earth was I talking about? Of course it was just the wards; I just worry so much without him near me. You must think me so silly," she muttered depreciatingly, and turned away from her smiling husband.

"It's to be expected Lils – you've always been a worrier. Now, how about we go join Albus in his office for a spot of mulled wine?" James suggested, already pulling away from his wife to move towards the door.

"That sounds like a great plan."

* * *

><p>Small orbs of dazzling blue light lit the gardens of Lestrange Manor. The beautifully manicured gardens – lined with magnificent topiary – glowed unnaturally under the iridescent watch of the orbs, and the figures of Lady and Lord Lestrange cast looming shadows as they slowly made their way towards the party of six who were already situated inside of a small rune circle.<p>

Lord and Lady Malfoy stood at the East and West of the circle, whilst Draco, Samael, Andras and Rabastan were the intermediate points. The harsh wind of Winter was unnaturally quiet, as only a soft breeze was blowing, which gently ruffled the groups hair as they stood perfectly still. With every step taken towards the circle, Bellatrix and Rodolphus' words became clearer, and with every word incanted the wind intensified until the howling gales were threatening to shove the group away from one another.

"-you for your gift of magic, as we become one with nature once more," Bellatrix's voice called loudly over the din of the wind.

"Thank you for your gift of magic, as we return your gift back to the Earth," her husband replied, and The couple entered the circle, and they immediately joined hands with the others.

"From the points of the Earth," Bellatrix spoke once more, and with a sharp nod to the rest of the party, they spoke too.

Their loud voices producing an echoing cacophony of sound, and with every word spoken, a rumbling shook the ground "the points of no return, we thank you. Together – in unity – we present you with an offering of our gratitude for another year of survival – another year with magic. _Sacrificalis magicae_, _per gratiam magicae_." The final word bellowed from their throats as, thin slivers of light exploded around them, producing an awe-inspiring display.

Narcissa smiled gently at the child next to her, as he gasped and raised a shaking finger to the nearest thread – a dancing cyan scratch in the elemental darkness of the sky. "She has gifted us once more," she murmured to him; Andras cocked his head to the sky once more.

"I want to paint this, Aunt Narcii! When I see father tomorrow, I'll paint this, and give it to you!" he exuberantly declared, before bouncing off towards the house.

"He seems happy enough," a silky voice commented, and Narcissa turned to her husband with a smile. "It's a shame that Severus and Remus couldn't come this year, especially since it was Andras' first Yule."

"Yes, Remus did want to see Andy's first celebration display, however not much can be done when one's contracted the pox," she softly said, before casting her gaze across the gardens, and her eyes lit with amusement when she saw what she was seeking. "It's Draco's second celebration tonight, Lucius, can you see how he's trying to impress Samael with his knowledge?"

Following his wife's gaze, Lucius did indeed see how his son was wildly gesticulating with his arms, whilst smiling intently at the youngest Lestrange. Lucius also saw the amused expression upon Samael's face as he nodded at something Draco said, and led them towards an abandoned bench.

"By Merlin, I can hear the Wedding bells already," Narcissa sighed happily. _That _caught Lucius' attention.

"Narcissa Malfoy! You cannot seriously be planning our son's marriage to Samael!" he exclaimed, because Malfoy Rule #19 stated that Malfoy's do not splutter, which was what the blonde man truly wanted to do.

Narcissa simply stared innocently at her husband. "Surely you see the way that Draco acts around him, Lucius? It's going to lead to marriage, I can assure you; Bellatrix and Rodolphus will not mind."

"An arranged marriage, Narcissa? You cannot do this to our child!" he thundered; stomping his cane for emphasis. "Samael and Draco are _children_; their interactions mean _nothing _in accordance to any type of romantic relations! I cannot believe that you would do something so horrendous to him!"

The woman's eyes seemed to turn to ice, as she glared at her husband. "Do not insult my treatment of our son Lucius! I love Draco with all my being, and I wouldn't dream of putting Draco in any type of pain. I have Draco's best wishes at heart, I was simply saying that those two will most likely enter a romantic relationship when they're older. I was _predictin__g_, not _planning_," she explained pointedly, and Lucius refused to contradict her.

"If you're sure Narcii, if you're sure."

The woman sniffed haughtily, "Of course I am sure Lucius, I usually am correct, after all." Lucius thought it wise to refrain from commenting.

* * *

><p>"-sacrificed our magic, that's what those colours were – our magic," Draco explained excitedly, waving his hand in the air to point out a stray amber thread of light. Samael smiled softly at Draco's excitement, it wasn't often that he saw his friend like this. At school, he maintained a mask, which was only disrupted by the Malfoy's pouting or insecurities, so Samael could honestly say that he had never seen Draco so happy. <em>'Well actually, there was that time at Madam Malkins, with the fabric.'<em>

"What colour is your magic then?" Samael heard himself ask, and his smile grew as an embarrassed flush took over Draco's face.

"I am unsure actually," the blonde murmured quietly, before smiling suddenly. "I know what colour Mother's is though, it's cyan and Father's is grey."

_'Merlin, he seems to be extremely happy about telling me this, it is as though Andras and himself have switched places. I would suggest Magical Influence, however none of the others seem to be as affected as Draco is...Perhaps, this is a field__ of study he is genuinely interested in,'_ Samael mused , watching with fascination as a blush spread across Draco's face again.

"I also know what colour your magic is," the blonde whispered, but Samael heard him nonetheless. "It's this magnificent shade of emerald, it's hauntingly beautiful, like your eyes, it really is quite-" the Malfoy suddenly stopped with wide frightened eyes.

_'Oh, I do adore it when he believes that he has embarrassed himself beyond repair. He truly is melodramatic, however I canno__t let him wallow in his self-despair for long.' _"Is that so Dragon? It seems as though the colour of magic relates to eye-colour; so in accordance to this theory, your magic must be a sparkling silver," Samael suggested softly, before his lips turned upwards into what could only be described as a wick grin. "I am sure that your magic is also very beautiful."

"Be quiet, you – you, git!" Draco burst out with a flaming face, and a chuckle escaped Samael's lips.

"My my, Draco, you must have been spending too much time around Zabini to have gained such a filthy mouth," the blonde didn't answer his friend, only scowl a ferocious scowl, which slowly merged into a pout at Samael's continued chuckles.

"You're so mean to me!" the blond child declared, however there was no real heat to his words.

Emerald eyes bore into their silver counterparts. "Nonsense Draco, I would never insult my only friend," Samael simply stated, and the assuredness of his voice seemed to calm the Malfoy, as the child hesitantly bumped shoulders with his dark-haired companion.

_'Strange...his uncertainty does not irritate me, instead it is...endearing,'_ Samael thought to himself, as he nudged the blonde's shoulders in return, and even though Samael would not admit it, the blinding smile sent his way made him want to wrap his arms around the blonde. _'Oh Merlin, hugging? I want to __hug__ Draco? What is he doing to me?'_

A loud screeching from above, saved Samael from answering his own internal question, as a large tawny owl easily passed through the wards protecting those in the gardens. Daintily, the avian perched itself upon Samael's outstretched arm, and the boy quickly detached the parchment from the owl. The seal upon the parchment was easily recognised, as that of the third-year Warrington. _'__He is staying at Hogwarts if I remember correctly; I seriously doubt he would write for anything other than an exchange.'_

Quickly opening the parchment, Samael scanned the contents and frowned. "What is it?" Draco questioned, and Samael regarded him slowly.

"Tell me Dragon, do you know anything about a mirror that is enchanted to show one what they want most in the world?" the blonde replied the negative. "No? Very well, do you know anything about Nicholas Flamel? For the life of me, I cannot remember who he is." A perplexed look crossed the Lestrange's face, and concentration painted Draco's.

"Nicholas Flamel? Dumbledore and he worked closely whilst finding uses for Dragon's blood, and I believe that he created the Philosopher's Stone," the blonde answered, curiously watching Samael's face go through various phases of thought and understanding.

_'Philosopher's Stone? I know that it can create gold, and I dare say that Potter and Weasel would love to get their filthy paws on it – Weasel especially. The st__one can also make someone immortal,'_ Samael mused, before something clicked in his head._ 'That Cerberus on the third-floor, it cannot solely be there from lack of proper housing, and Dumbledore's warning to stay away from the third-floor can not only be du__e to the Cerberus. Surely Flamel and he must be close? What if Dumbledore is protecting the stone?'_ Samael wondered, eyes burning wild with their intensity.

_'Also, Quirrel's odd nature, seemingly a bumbling man, but has sharp eyes and is renowned for his __spell-work and handling __Trolls__. What if the Troll in the dungeon was a distraction to gain access to the third-floor and steal the stone? What if Quirrel wishes to become immortal?'_

Slowly, a lazy grin spread across Samael's features, as an outrageous thought hurtled into Samael's head. "Old boy! I do believe that we have a plan!" he announced, whilst urging the blonde into Manor, oblivious to the fact that his hand was firmly linked with Draco's.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday 1<em>_st__ January 1992_

Hard blue eyes bore into hers, instantly chastising the woman. "No Rita, I cannot publish this! Do you know what backlash we would get!" he demanded, and his eyes narrowed when he saw she was about to defend herself. "You can print as many theories about them when it comes to their love-life and other such insipid scandals, but I cannot allow you to publish _this_!"

"But sir! I have sources! They can prove it!" she declared, desperation evident in her voice.

"Has it been approved by the Ministry? Have you gone to the Auror office with the proof? Or how about the Child Services? You haven't have you?" the man questioned the fuming woman.

"But sir, my evidence!" she shouted.

"From a Muggle Rita! I cannot publish this, the public won't like it!" he bellowed, before frowning at her. "Rita, if this is true, then I would love to publish it – take those bastards down a peg or two, but I cannot without third-party backing. The Potters have a large reputation, and if we accuse them of child abuse, well," the man tapered off quietly, before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"The only thing you can do is go to the Ministry. I know Potter is in the Aurors, but Shacklebolt is open-minded and not too close to him, so you may be able to present your case. Or you can go to the Child Care Services and give them your evidence, I know that Perce Brockling retired a couple of months back, said something about a terrible case of abuse, but he's your best bet for information."

The blonde woman's shoulders sagged in defeat, "So I cannot publish the story?" she asked none-too-hopefully, and the man only shook his head.

"You get me more evidence, or a Ministry official's backing then I can get you your slot. Even if it's just suspicion from an Auror, it will cause some ripples in the water, but until then I can't do anything," he informed her quietly.

"I understand sir," Rita murmured, but her eyes were defiant. "But I will get this story published, even if it takes months – years even! I will ensure that the public know of how sick those bastards are!"

"I don't doubt it Rita, but until then, just continue with your writings, eh? People love to gossip, and even if I cannot approve of a child abuse allegation, that doesn't stop you from writing vicious scandals does it?" He enquired, and the evil glint in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I'm updating chapter 15 _very_ quickly!

Oh, and **green-jelly-me** has coined the phrase 'Dramael' to describe our favourite boys. :)

A massive thanks to **ZoeyRowan** for betaing! :3


	15. A Future For A Sinner

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><em>Every Saint Has a Past, and Every Sinner Has a Future.<em>

_Oscar Wilde._

* * *

><p><em>Monday January 6<em>_th__ 1992_

"Ah S-s-severus, is there something I could do for you?" Quirrinus asked softly, edging slowly into the wall behind him whilst fiddling with his fingers.

The Potions Master merely frowned at the exaggerated display of nervousness, and loomed further into the younger man's personal space. "I know what you're up to Quirrinus," Severus menaced lightly, casting the tip of his wand against the wizard's throat. "I would bode well for yourself if you did not pursue your quarry longer than you already have been, or else," Severus' silky baritone deepened "something...unpleasant may happen to you."

The Defence Professor regarded the Potions Master with frightened eyes, "I-I don't know what you're talking- eurgh!" The wand against the man's throat deepened to the jugular, and Severus' face was so close to the other wizard's that Severus could feel the other man's breaths against his shoulder.

"Do not lie to me! You are attempting to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone, and _I _am telling you not to, unless you are willing to answer to the consequences."

"Are you threatening me Severus?" Quirrel enquired lightly, making Severus narrow his eyes at the man's tone.

"Surely not, I am simply advising you to cease this useless endeavour, as you will only get harmed," was Severus' easy reply, yet the wand was not removed from the man's throat, and Severus' eyes did not contain any type of safety. They both knew that the Potions Master was promising serious injury, if not death.

"Caring for others, Severus?" Quirrinus' laughing voice questioned, whilst stepping from the shadows of the wall; back straight, eyes sharp, and voice darkly amused. "Have we been separate long enough, that you have begun caring for outsiders? Or have our days together been just a fleeting memory, my little Half Blood Prince?"

Onyx eyes widened. The wand faltered.

"Severus?" an amused voice called, "Surely you remember me? Your pseudo-father, guardian, mentor, _master_." Quirrel smirked at Severus' expression, and ran a finger down his cheek. "You've aged well my friend, I had wondered what effect those potion fumes would have upon you, but I can see my fears were unjustified."

Severus seemed to shake himself from his stupor, "M-my Lord?" the man stammered, hurriedly falling to his knees. "Oh Merlin, I've waited so long to talk to you again," he breathed, an expression of relief and happiness crossing his face.

Quirrel smiled down at the Potions Master, and wrapped a hand around Severus' arm to urge him to his feet. "How many times must I tell you Severus? You do not have to bow to me," his exasperated voice chuckled, and Severus managed a weak smile. "You must tell me what has been happening whilst I was away, the most important being, why does Samael walk with a cane? I originally thought that it was merely for dramatic flair, like Lucius, however he depends upon it far too much, and the pain that flits across his face tells me that it must be used for medicinal purposes."

"Lucius doesn't purely use the cane for dramatic flair, My Lord," Severus murmured quietly, but Quirrell just waved that point aside. "I'm afraid that Samael does use the cane for medical reasons, but perhaps this is a conversation best served for a quieter place," the man advised, but the other man frowned.

"Severus, my silencing spell has been around us since I started this conversation, now why are you attempting to avoid answering my question?" he questioned, irritation evident in his face. When Severus glanced away, Quirrel slammed his fist against the wall, before tightly clenching it. "Tell me what is wrong with my brother!"

"Dumbledore," Severus answered, wincing when frigid eyes turned upon him. "Dumbledore took Samael when you were gone, and gave him to his Muggle relatives, with impenetrable wards," Severus hissed out, glaring at the wall opposite. "Whilst he was there, he had an identical childhood to the ones we suffered." Severus quickly stole a glance at his Lord's face, and saw the unveiled anger and anguish as Quirrel clenched his teeth so hard that Severus worried if they might shatter.

"How severe were his injuries?" was Voldemort's hissed question after a long, serioussilence.

"The same extent as mine I imagine," Severus replied, smiling grimly at his Master's indrawn breath.

It was true that Voldemort and Severus were close, what many didn't know was that Voldemort was Severus' saviour. It happened when Severus was sixteen – the night before Tobias took his and his wife's life – when Severus performed the largest piece of magic he had ever performed, dark magic, (or to be more precise) a dark ritual. The ritual of self-healing.

It was (under the Ministry's magnificent laws) illegal to perform any ritual pertaining to regaining life, and that included healing, due to the fact that another life had to be sacrificed in order for the ritual to work. In Severus' case the life sacrificed was that of his owl – Charon – who had been murdered by Tobias due to his 'loud squawking', and then because of Severus' 'pathetic whimpering' Tobias took his drunken ire out on his son. The result was a semi-catatonic, bleeding Severus Snape, who had just enough consciousness to perform a ritual...incorrectly.

The most crucial factor for the ritual was incorrectly placed – Severus and Charon were in the wrong rune circles – which resulted in an incomplete necromancy attempt. The magic was _indescribable_. It drew Voldemort like a moth to the flame, and when the Dark Lord saw the unconscious, battered, teenager, well, from that point onward Severus was taken under Voldemort's proverbial wing.

"Narcissa worked herself into exhaustion to save him, but his scars were left unattended for so long that the salve would not work upon him, and he refuses to glamour them," Severus informed his Master, sighing softly as he recalled the day in question. "He had a pneumothorax and multiple incorrectly healed bones, but the reason for the cane is that his ankle was crushed. Narcissa could not heal the ankle without further damage, so Samael has accustomed himself to the fact that he most likely has to live with a cane for the rest of his life."

Silence. The only sound was Quirrel's slow breaths, and Severus could swear that he could almost hear his Lord thinking. "Where are those bastards?" he breathed lowly, "Where are those bastards who did _that_ to my little brother!" The Dark Lord looked as if he was prepared to enter battle, even in a different body, none could mistake the ferocity and hatred that burned in those eyes.

"Dead." Severus' calm reply froze the Dark Lord, "The Dursleys are dead. Narcissa and Draco killed the woman, and Bellatrix and Samael killed the man," Quirrel's shoulders sagged in defeat knowing that he was unable to avenge Samael's life, but his questioning eyes turned to Severus, and the Potions Master answered the unvocalised question. "He is fine, better for it. I guess that it is closure for him, however I doubt that he'll truly get closure until his birth parents and Dumbledore are dead, or well on their way to getting there."

Quirrel 'hmmed' in agreement, his eyes far away in contemplation. "We could always help fate in their demise," he mused, but Severus' firm shake of the head had him narrowing his eyes. "And why not? He's my brother! I have every right to punish the bastards who did this to him!"

"My Lord, I mean no impertinence, but isn't that right Samael's, and Samael's alone?"

"No!" was the immediate response.

"I think that Samael would be displeased," a raised eyebrow, "after all, how would you feel if someone killed your father before you could?" The narrowed eyes glaring at him, told Severus that his Lord didn't appreciate the reminder of his past.

"I suppose that you are correct," Quirrel's soft voice called out into the quiet, "Samael should be the one to have the final blow, but I doubt he'll terribly mind a torturing partner?" The words a statement more than a question, and Severus only shook his head in amusement. Voldemort could never resist a torturing opportunity, and since the one being avenged was his brother, the urge to maim was even greater. It seemed that Voldemort was the ultimate protective elder brother.

Severus' lips twitched with amusement. "No, I do not think he will mind if you help."

"Good." A predatory smile stretched Quirrel's features, "Now, tell me my dear friend, how have you been? I do recall that we were going to have a conversation about your love-life before my, ah, _disappearance_, how has that gone?"

A small smile flitted across Severus' face at his Lord's attempts to be subtle. "Remus and I are still together, and yes, he is loyal to our cause. I also developed a potion for male conception, and we have a son together – Andras – who is an excitable knowledge-hog."

Quirrel raised Severus' smile with a larger one, "I am genuinely glad to see you so happy, Severus; I'm just disappointed to have missed such a large part of yours and Samael's life. You are family," the man murmured, gripping the Potions Master's arm with his hand in a show of unity.

Watery obsidian eyes, blinked furiously at the Defence Professor, determinately attempting to not break down and cry in front of his Lord. "T-Thank you," he managed in a thick voice, and Quirrel smiled in understanding.

"The Dursleys were Lily Potter's relatives were they not?" the Dark Lord enquired, and glad not to dwell on emotions much longer, Severus nodded. "Yes, that article yesterday was talking of how the lack of Lily Potter's grief must mean that she was heartless, it was rather amusing to read."

"Was it? I was occupied with watching her read it. By Merlin, the look on her faced looked as if it would curdle cream."

An eyebrow was raised at this, "Really? I did not see it, we must share memories sometime." he mused with an amused glint in his eye. "It is strange however that a reporter got hold of the Muggles' death, and as we all know Bella, I highly doubt that their deaths were anything less than gruesome."

"You're presuming that the reporter knows something?"

"Perhaps," came the answer. "There was no mention of how severe their deaths were, and the main angle was to dismember Lily Potter's reputation, but yet I cannot shake the feeling that there is something the reporter knows."

"And if the reporter knows something, then the editor most likely knows it too. So if this 'something' hasn't been published, then we have to presume that the editor cannot allow it to be published."

"Again, this is all presumption Severus, however it does seem that way. Let us just see how this plays out." A curt nod.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"I don't want Samael told of this encounter," The Dark Lord instructed, "I want to see if my darling brother is able to figure out my identity, he is suspicious I know, but I wonder whether he has discovered my identity," he whispered with a smirk, "he truly is amazing."

"Whatever you wish, My Lord," Severus answered easily, staring at his Master with questioning eyes. "May I aid him?"

"Hmmm? Perhaps," Quirrel said whilst reaching a hand into his robes, "you may give him this." Severus took the tome from his Lord's hands, "'Bonds and their Peculiarities, by Emilia Spofforth,'" he read with a smile. "It may do him some favours to research about the bond he and I share."

* * *

><p><em>Thursday 14<em>_th__ March 1992 – 21:03_

"Have you even read it Samael? I don't know why Severus gave you that book, I mean it's just full of all those silly notions of soul bonds isn't it? Everyone knows that they don't exist, Mother Magic has granted us with magic, she isn't going to play matchmaker for us!" Draco vehemently declared, gesticulating wildly with his hands. _'Oh, he truly is adorable when he is ranting,'_ Samael thought, too amused to analyse what he just thought.

"Actually, the book is about which bonding to choose for a ceremony," the Lestrange heir corrected, and Draco stared at him before pouting.

"Well, I cannot say anything against it now can I?" the blonde murmured, "Not now you've told me it isn't some love-sick drivel by an idiotic woman!" _'He almost sounds disappointed,'_ Samael wryly mused, "My Father and Mother have the eternity bond, or as I like to call it, the suicide bond, and I'm pretty sure Aunt Bella and Uncle Rodo have the same bond as well."

"The suicide bond, Draco, honestly?" Samael's amused voice commented, causing Draco to huff in annoyance.

"I was six Samael, six! I wasn't the best at naming things!" he defended, the pout seeming to become even more pronounced.

"Be that as it may," the Lestrange child began, "in reference to your original question. Yes, I have begun reading it, and I am nearing the end."

Shock coloured Draco's face at his answer. "How? It was at least 400 pages, and I've never seen you read it either! You're always reading that strange book in the Common Room, or doing your school-work, just how?" the dark-haired child only smirked, and tapped his nose with a pale finger, and the Malfoy huffed in defeat. "Well, did you find anything useful in it?"

Samael scowled at him. "No, I failed to find anything of consequence, however I doubt that Severus gave me the book on a whim so I am persevering through it."

"Oh my! Samael Cygnus Lestrange complaining about a book! About gaining more knowledge! Someone alert the Aurors, there's a case of impersonation!"

"Oh, hush you," Samael commanded with a twitch of his lips, leaning further into the black chesterfield. "I am in no doubt that if I was searching for a bonding ritual then I would find the book a riveting read, however as I am not, I do not."

_'Oh, he is thinking once again,' _Samael commented to himself, noting the blonde child's furrowed eyebrows. _'I wonder if he knows that his nose crinkles when he is lost in thought? Probably not, 'nose-crinkling is unbecoming' is most likely rule 59 of the Malfoy Guidelines,'_ Samael fought hard not to snort in amusement.

"Samael," Draco's voice called slowly, "you may not be searching for a bond, but you do have one," he shifted forward in his seat. "I know that most people associate bonding with romantic couples, but you _are_ bonded to Our Lord. _You_ are his blood brother, his _bond _brother!"

"I..." Samael paused with an emotion akin to disbelief, "I cannot believe that I did not think of that!" his distaste was evident in his words, as he clenched his fists with anger.

"Are familial bonds in there?" Draco asked with poorly concealed excitement, almost _bouncing _in his seat. Samael quickly consulted the contents, and turned to the appropriate pages with nimble fingers, scanning through the text, it was Draco who spotted the ritual.

"It's there, look!" the blonde pointed his finger towards the space, "Under simplistic blood bonds! It can barely classify as a bond, because it requires so little things, only blood and consent,"

_'Consent? I consented to becoming the Dark Lord's brother aged fourteen months?'_ Samael's shocked inner-voice thought, and Draco seemed to be thinking the same thing, since an expression of awe and fear crossed his face. _'Brilliant.' _he dryly thought.

"Samael? Have you read the rest?" Draco enquired, and a single dark eyebrow rose. "Quote: 'When the siblings are separated for long periods of time, Mother Magic punishes the bonders, as they are neglecting the wish she gratefully granted upon them' unquote." the blonde's unsure face clouded Samael's vision.

"Pain?" Samael echoed, and his hand absently rose to his glamoured scar.

"Wasn't your scar hurting you at the feast? I remember watching you because I thought I had slighted you, and I swear you were in pain when you looked at-"

"Quirrel," the Lestrange murmured, a smile full of teeth showing.

"Yes," Draco's wary voice said, "and didn't you say that he clenches his hand in lessons sometimes, as if he's in pain." _'Oh, __this__ is delicious,' _"You don't think...?"

"That my brother has possessed our darling Professor? Why Draco, that is _exactly_ what I am thinking," Samael smirked, slowly closing his eyes before flashing them at Draco.

"So we were wrong," the blonde stated, staring into the Lestrange's emeralds. "Quirrel _wasn't_ retrieving the stone for the Dark Lord, Quirrel _is_ the Dark Lord."

"More or less," the boy inclined his head towards the blonde.

"Is that why Severus gave you the book? Because he knew who Quirrel was? If that's true, then why didn't he tell us?" Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat, whilst Samael settled himself more comfortably in his.

"It is most probably because my darling brother is testing me to see if I am truly worthy to be his brother." the blonde immediately became angry in Samael's defence. _'He is somewhat like a loyal guard dog; eager to__ bite those who insult me; how...quaint.' _"Calm yourself Dragon, he is only ensuring that his _life-endangering_ stake all those years ago has produced good fortune. After all, he may have arrived at Hogwarts to discover I was a pompous Gryffindor firmly under Dumbledore's control, and _then_ how angered would he be? To learn that he had saved the life of a child only to discover that they had turned their back upon him."

"I guess, in that case, he is allowed to do some testing I suppose," Draco grudgingly admitted.

Samael smirked at him. "You're pouting on the inside, are you not?" he questioned; his smirk deepening as he knew that Draco was trying hard not to lose all sense of Malfoy pride, and propriety by cursing at an obscenely loud volume.

"Certainly not, Malfoys do not perform such demeaning acts like _pouting_," he sneered, scowling when Samael only continued smirking. _'Definitely pouting.' _"So have you passed My Lord's test then? You have discovered his identity after all," the blonde reasoned.

"Oh no, this was merely the first of many tests, the first rain- drop in a storm so to speak," Samael's toothy grin flashed his way. "I am avidly awaiting them to be honest, they will be most enjoyable."

"_You_, Samael Cygnus Lestrange, are a strange wizard," the blonde announced with a fond smile, one that Samael couldn't help but match. "And I absolutely adore it!" _'He finds my oddities adorable?'_ the boy thought with an unidentifiable emotion, _'Surely, he does not find __me__ adorable?'_

The blonde child wasn't smiling now, in fact, the Malfoy had his neutral expression on his face. _'Ah, that is why.' _Warrington was standing next to the sofa Draco was reclining on, and the third-year looked as if he was fighting hard with himself not to glare at Draco. "Good evening Warringon," Samael greeted cordially, yet the slight bite to his tone made it clear that he wasn't happy about being interrupted.

"Lestrange." the other boy nodded, "That mirror I told you about, apparently Dumbledore has plans move it to the third floor tomorrow – I just saw Potter and Weasley coming from that room next to the Library, and they were talking about the move. I believe that the mirror is in there," Warrington concluded with an emotion somewhat akin to attention-seeking.

An arched eyebrow was Samael's response, as he was content with watching his friend reply. "Let me get this straight," the blonde sneered in the haughtiest voice Samael had ever heard, disgust written across the Malfoy's face. "You are attempting to lead Samael to an abandoned classroom based upon a piece of hearsay you _overheard_. Are you aiming to injure my friend, or are you merely mentally challenged?" _'Oh my dear friend, you are the most sincere and adoring person,'_

"What? No, that's not what I meant!" Warrington exclaimed loudly, and Draco 'tutted' when several heads turned their way. "No, it wasn't hearsay so to speak, I may have, uh, cast a silencing spell around the space the three of us were standing so I knew what was being said."

"So Potter or Weasley specifically said that this mirror was situated in the room aside the Library?" the blonde questioned, silver eyes burning into the elder boy's.

Warrington looked suitable ashamed. "Well no, not exactly, but I'm sure that was what they were talking about!"

"You are _sure_? _Sure_? I do not think you are comprehending what I am saying Warrington, you cannot expect to give Samael hearsay when it may lead to him becoming endangered! What kind of moron are you?" _'Perhaps I should prevent Draco from saying anything fur__ther, after all, it would not do if he managed to damage his family's connections.'_

"That is enough Draco," Samael softly, yet firmly stated. "Your words were very much appreciated, and you have my gratitude for your defence, however I believe that no more should be spoken on this subject." Samael could practically see Draco roll his eyes at his words, "Thank you for the information Warrington, three chocolate croissants at ten tonight?" A nod met his question, "Farewell then," Samael's dismissal was clear, and the third-year surprisingly complied with no further comment.

Draco stared hard at his friend, "You're not seriously thinking of following his information are you?" he murmured once the other boy was out of earshot. "Because it just screams 'untrustworthy' to me."

"And that is why, my dear friend, a _trustworthy_ wizard shall be accompanying me," Samael answered, with a small twist of the lips.

Silver eyes widened, "Are you speaking of me?"

"Of course I am, old boy," Samael assured, patting the blonde's lap whilst he gained his feet. "Now we must hurry, no doubt Weasley and Potter are still there." Samael ensured that there was no room for disagreement, as the blonde stood with a small huff.

"Fine fine, lead the way fine sir," the blonde mockingly bowed, sighing once more as Samael only smiled widely at him.

The walk to the described room was a comfortable one, Samael decided, there was no unnecessary chatter, and Draco seemed to be unhappy. _'Well, no __unhappy __per-se, but not in the best of spiri__ts __either,'_ Samael corrected, "Well this is it," the blonde announced, raising a hand to indicate the grandiose mirror stood before them. Samael detected traces of unimpressed humour, no doubt accustomed such objects with such filigree, and Samael had indeed visited Malfoy Manor to know it was true. There was something more about this mirror however, that was special enough to garner the worth of protecting the Philosopher's Stone.

The surface of the mirror was gleaming with an ethereal sheen, seeming almost malicious in the surrounding darkness of the room. _'What does that say?'_ Samael wondered, regarding the words written backwards atop the mirror – the child had almost mastered the skill of reading backwards from his days at the Dursleys.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," Samael murmured softly, taking a step toward the mirror as if he were entranced. "I wonder whether I truly desire what everyone assumes I do." Draco's worried calling of his name only made the child smile, as he focused his eyes upon the mirror.

And his own reflection stared back at him, with the same soft smile upon his face. _'Do I genuinely make this expression?'_ Those he had grown to care for surrounded him, alongside those that he had only ever seen in photos, their infamous faces smiling, smirking and sneering at him. Yet there was someone missing, someone important.

His parents were behind him, Bella's hand resting upon his shoulder, whilst Rodolphus stood beside her, an arm wrapped around her waist. _'Who is it? __Who am I missing?'_ A weight at his hand. Pale alabaster skin around his palm, interlocked fingers, a flashing smile. _Draco_. Emerald eyes once more took in the scene and blinked, his family weren't surrounding _him_, they were surrounding _them_ – Samael _and_ Draco. A squeeze of his hand, _eternity_, a stroke of his palm, _together_, lingering eyes, _bonding_.

_'No.' _disbelief washed through him; blood drained from his face.

Silver eyes gazed warmly into his own, a soft smile played upon firm _'Firm?' _lips, and those pale fingers trailed across his jaw-line; the action holding a completely different meaning to the one he himself gave to Granger. A word escaped the blonde's lips, a word Samael could not hear but his reflection obviously could, as Samael saw himself lean closer toward the blonde.

_'No.'_

Their faces were a mere hairs-width apart, eyes falling shut with practised ease, lips closing-

"ael! Samael! Are you okay?" Draco's familiar voice called out, "Merlin, you're shaking," Samael heard the blonde murmur worriedly, whilst the Malfoy's pale fingers stretched across Samael's sides, and the raven-haired child couldn't help the small flinch that escaped him at Draco's touch. "Samael?" the blonde asked, hurt colouring his tone.

Samael's eyes snapped up to meet Draco's, taking in the worry and pain that lingered in those silvery depths. "Yes Draco?" Samael was surprised to hear how normal his voice sounded to his own ears, and the blonde only gave him a wary glance. "There is nothing to worry about Dragon, I am perfectly fine."

"If you are sure." Samael nodded curtly, unwilling to begin analysing what his heart's desire was at this moment in time.

"Yes, yes, I am fine. That mirror however, is an extremely dangerous weapon, you could spend your entire life attempting to escape what it tells you, or wither away in front of it, attempting to immerse yourself in your fantasy." Draco didn't ask which of the two Samael wanted, what with Samael's sickly pallor and still shaking frame, however luckily for the Lestrange the blonde was soon distracted by the voices of three little Gryffindors.

"-one of the most brilliant witches at this school, or you two reckless ruffians?" the Gryffindor girl's echoed down the corridor, causing Draco's eyebrows to rise into his hairline.

"Impressive," he murmured, before rolling his eyes at Samael's smug expression. "I must admit that I doubted she had it in her, but I must pay respect where it's due, she is certainly more cunning than I thought."

"Nonsense, Draco, she deserves a place in the Pit with her performances," the Lestrange easily replied, seemingly recovered from his bout with the mirror, yet the blonde child noticed the distance between them, and it reminded him terribly of the time he had insulted the Lestrange heir months prior, it seemed that he had grown accustomed to their _intimacy_.

"Is something the matter Dragon?" Samael murmured, his arm shifting almost imperceptibly as if he was about to reach out his hand but decided against it. Draco's eyes widened at the movement, and the Lestrange glanced away from the silver eyes. "It seems that Potter and Weasel are going after the stone," the boy mused, almost as if he was intentionally changing subjects.

Draco glanced at his friend, "Are we going after them?"

"Oh no, we are going to visit Severus and inform him of where we are going so that when the dorm rooms are checked, we are obviously still present."

"Merlin, you're a genius."

* * *

><p><em>21:17<em>

"Ron! Ron, wake up!" Robert Potter's insistent voice hissed at the ginger child, whilst shaking the Weasley frantically. "Ron! RON! Wake up, it's tonight!" The taller boy merely turned his head away from his best friend's voice, and snuggled his pillow. "Wake up Ron! Snivillus is after the stone! He's gonna get away!"

"'M, not now Mum – s-sausages in the drawers, Cumberland ones, Glamorgan ones, battered ones, my sausages," the boy mumbled, before a soft snore escaped his lips. "Yummy, yummy sausages – all mine!"

"Ron!" Robert called frustratedly, before pulling the covers off of the sleeping boy. The Weasley only whined in displeasure whilst curling into the foetal position. "Ron!" Robert shoved the other boy from the bed, watching dispassionately as he bolted awake. "Finally! Hurry up and get dressed!" he murmured before flouncing from the room.

Robert hadn't gotten more than a few feet out of the dorm-room, when a hard body slammed against his as he was pinned to the ground. "What the buggering hell is wrong with you? I was _sleeping_!" Ron snarled into his face, before Robert swung a fist at him.

"Get off me! I was waking you up!" Robert defended, after managing to shove the older off of him.

"It's the middle of the night, y'kow the time where normal people are _sleeping_!" the Weasley declared, "What did you think you were doing? Waking normal people up at night-time!"

The Potter heir scowled at Ron, "I was trying to tell you that Snivillus is going after the stone tonight. Dumbledore has had to go to Ministry on urgent Wizengamot business, so there's no-one to protect it!"

Ron stared at his friend in shock. "Well why didn't you say so earlier!" he exclaimed; quickly striding down the stairs leading to the Common Room.

"Wait! Ron, aren't you going to get changed first?" Robert asked, jogging after his friend who was still wearing his grey flannel pyjamas. Ron gave him a scandalous look.

"Robert, Snivillus is going to take the stone and you're worrying about my clothes? Where are your priorities?" Robert scowled at his friend's back whilst following him. "We need to make up for all those points we lost at Halloween, no-one's talking to us. And, how are we going to get past fluffy? None of us can play an instrument."

"Why do you need an instrument?" a bodiless voice asked – startling the two boys. Whipping their heads around, they saw their fellow house-mate, Neville Longbottom, standing a few steps above them, arms folded tightly across his chest with a stern look across his face. "Where are you going?"

"I – err – nowhere?" Ron questioned with a red face, scowling when Robert hit him on the arm.

"It's none of your business Neville, now go back to bed," the Potter patronisingly commanded, making a shooing action with his hand, before continuing his descent down the stairs – pulling Ron along with him.

The Longbottom followed after them regardless, "It is my business if you're going to lose all our points again! We're still minus 81 points, we've got no chance of winning the House cup, but I at least want us in the positives when we lose!"

They had entered the Common Room, and the only response the Potter and Weasley got was angry glares from their fellow house-mates. "Shut up Neville!" Robert bellowed, slamming his fist uselessly against his side. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I'm not going to let you go and ruin our reputation again!" the child insisted, jogging ahead of the two other boys until he was stood in front of them. "I won't stand for it!"

"Who's not standing for what?" a voice interrupted, causing all three boys to turn around in shock. "Oh really? I don't know why you're so surprised, you were arguing extremely loudly in the most frequented room in the Tower." Hermione Granger placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head with wonder of the stupidity of boys.

"Not you as well!" Robert moaned, only just refraining from burying his head in his hands. "I'll tell you what I've told him," he rudely stated, nodding his head towards the Longbottom. "You're not going to stop us; we're leaving now without any further interruptions." And without further ado, Robert Potter angrily exited the room, his friend quickly on his feet.

"You have to stop them, Hermione!" Neville implored the perplexed girl, who was beginning to think that perhaps Samael Lestrange had _some _sort of idea of the inner-workings of her mind when it came to her fellow house-mates. "They said that they're going to the third-floor to stop someone trying to steal a Philosopher's Stone, or something like that, and you heard Professor Dumbledore at the beginning of the year, the third-floor is expressly forbidden!"

At this moment in time, Hermione dearly wished she was able to raise her eyebrows – much like Samael Lestrange. "And how will I be able to stop them Neville, their pig-ignorance is only matched by their pig-headedness."

The Longbottom child was clearly floundering at her question. "Well, I, uh, I don't know Hermione! But you have to stop them!"

"Yes yes, you've said that already," the girl withheld the wish to sigh _loudly_. "I'll go after those idiots and get them back here, but if I'm not back in the next fifteen minutes go get," (and she rather thought she was losing her mind with her next words) "Samael Lestrange."

"Lestrange?" Neville echoed absently, "y-you want me to go to the Slytherins? A-alone?"

"Yes Neville, and if all else fails, go get Professor Snape; Professor McGonagall is most probably marking by now and it would be most rude to interrupt her." The boy – now white as a sheet – shook his head with resignation. His hazel eyes filled with fear and determination, and seeing this, Hermione smiled. "Good, now I'm going now; remember – fifteen minutes."

"O-okay, good luck." was Neville's parting shot, before shakily seating himself on the burgundy sofa, eyes firmly locked on the clock above the fireplace. "Fifteen minutes."

* * *

><p>It was easy to find the two Gryffindor boys, what with their loud arguments and stomping feet, and to be quite honest, Hermione Jean Granger dearly wished to shut them up. She had been wondering, ever since her encounter with that something-more Slytherin in the girls bathroom, whether he had been talking <em>some<em> sense. After all, she had caught herself thinking on (more than one) occasion what that defeating that troll _had_ been exciting; and her subsequent vocal sparring match (though decidedly lacking on her part of intelligent returns) had indeed been _thrilling._

She had also been wondering about the Slytherins, and what it would be like to be a part of that House. She had of course known after her meeting with the first-year Snakes in the train compartment that they did not like people like herself, however ever since the first fortnight the proclaimed 'blood purists' made no taunts against her, and it had left her wondering, wanting, _yearning _for the political ambitiousness of that House.

Regardless of the viciousness of the Snakes, they protected their own, and did not sell one another out, they were cunning, conniving and just plain mean and somehow that ideology suited the girl just fine. She had blown her chance at becoming a Snake, but Samael Lestrange was willing to play a game with her, and she was more than ready to be challenged.

Onto the matter at hand, however.

"Oh do stop moaning at one another," she stated, rounding the corner to where the two read-heads were stood. "it just makes me think you more pathetic than you already are."

"Shut up Granger! And stop following us, we're not your friends!" Robert bellowed at her, his red face identical to the Weasley's.

"Friends?" Hermione chuckled with amusement, "I would rather be expelled than become friends with you; you two are the most despised people in school, why would _I _want to ruin my perfect reputation with _you_?" She may not be able to manage an eyebrow rise, but she could most definitely sneer.

"Reputation?" Ron guffawed loudly, "You don't have one, apart from being a goody-little-two-shoes, and know-it-all." He spat the names like they were a curse, causing the Granger to shake her head with amusement.

"So who do you think the Professors would believe if I told them of this little adventure? Myself? One of the most brilliant witches at this school, or you two little reckless ruffians?" she returned smartly, allowing a vicious smile to cross her face.

"Y-you're blackmailing us?" Robert questioned incredulously.

"Nonsense, I would never do something so rambunctious, I am merely..._advising_ you on your courses of actions." Her democratic reply did nothing to assuage the boys' anger, and the predatory smirk on her face certainly didn't help matters.

"And what's that? Follow you back to the Common Room or you'll tell on us? We can't do that; we need to save the school!"

"Save the school? Why, I do believe that you two have confused yourself for Aurors, for only they would have the authority to investigate this convoluted 'saving'."

"Don't listen to her Ron, every second we waste here is a second wasted stopping Snape!"

"_Professor __Snape_ is a trusted member of the staff, and you as a student do not have any power over him. Now, I do not know what idiotic idea you have planted in your heads is, however I do know that it is going to end badly. Now why don't you abandon this stupid scheme, and come back to the tower."

"No! We're going to the third-floor to rescue the Philosopher's Stone and you can't stop us!" the Potter declared, pulling his friend into a quick stride. "Wait, what are you doing!" Hermione Granger was steadfastly following them, and quickly catching their pace.

"What do you think," a pause from breath, "I'm doing idiot? Ensuring that you don't, Merlin, cost us any more points!" her breathless panting was as loud as theirs, and nothing else was said as they hurried to the third-floor. "Do you even know how to tame a Cerberus?" she questioned, as the boys fiddled with the lock on the door. "Oh honestly, _alo__homora_!"

Immediately the salivating gigantic heads of the magnificent beast lunged at the open door, just as Ron opened his mouth to being warbling. As many of the Light knew, Molly Weasley was an avid listener of Celestina Warbeck, and her brood practically knew the words to every song – surprisingly Ron was half-decent.

Almost instantaneously, the three-headed dog collapsed before their very feet, deep rumbling snores tearing from their throats. "Hmph. Hurry up boys, the quicker you finish here, the quicker I can go to sleep." Unhappily following her orders, the two boys followed her down the trap door, with Ron's parting note following him down the depths.

* * *

><p><em>22:29<em>

"Are you sure that you would like to accompany me Dragon? I know that meeting my brother will prove to be gratuitous to your status amongst our peers, however he is still a Dark Lord and I-" the raven-haired boy began before faltering off, his emerald eyes wandering over to the grains of the wooden door before him. _'What is he __doing to me? I never used to care about what happened to other people, but now...now I do not think that I am able to think straight if he is harmed, just the mere thought... oh Merlin.'_

The silver eyes of his friend searched his eyes with confusion, and Samael could not help but liken them to mirror-Draco's, they were so similar, so alike, so _warm_. _'If that mirror is__ to show my heart's desire, then__ am I wanting to seek an amorous relationship with my Dragon in the future? Wanting to open my heart even fur__ther? Bare myself so far that I will never be able to recover should it prove disagreeable? Merlin, why would I desire __that__?' _he wondered, the irritating, unfounded intricacies of hormones and complex emotions unknown to him at the moment in time.

_'It is __bla__tant that my heart is to prove __treacherous in the future, however just because __that__ is what my heart desires, it does not mean that __that__ is what his heart desires. I will not let these thoughts torment my judgement, nothing shall cloud that ever again.__'_

"Samael?" the voice of the very subject of his thoughts questioned, and his eyes easily latched onto the blonde's, and a small smile wormed its way onto his face without consent.

"Ah yes," Samael murmured, "you do not have to accompany me if you do not want to, my brother is still a Dark Lord, and he is dangerous and I have no _desire_ to see you harmed by my brother's wand."

A look of understanding crossed the blonde's face, and Samael couldn't help but think that the blonde didn't understand at all. "Yes, I'm sure that after ten years of being apart, your brother cursing your friend would prove traumatic."

_'Traumatic? By Merlin, I never knew that Draco was this dense.'_ "No Draco," Samael corrected quietly, "I would not find that traumatic, it is just that I do not want to see you getting - , no, no, just ignore me. Are you prepared for this Dragon? Cerberus' are extremely dangerous." _'Merlin,'_

"Yes, I've brought the jewellery box from the girl's dorm rooms, it's charmed to play 'swan lake', well that's what Pansy said once," the blonde answered with a small grin, "since I _was_ attempting to complete my Potions essay."

"Good," was Samael's only response, as if he continued to watch his friend's smile he thought that he may have returned it. So instead, Samael raised his hood of his cloak to shadow his features, miming for the Malfoy to do so also. "Open the box please Dragon, as much as I adore this creature I do not want to be upon the receiving end of its ire of being caged inside a tiny room for the majority of a year."

The blonde complied, and the soft tinkling of the music box reached his ears. _'Beautiful.'_ the unbidden thought crossed his mind, as he cautiously opened the door. The slumbering form of the Cerberus was Samael's first sight aside the splintered form of what the Lestrange supposed used to be a trap-door.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Samael intoned perfectly, lifting the box from Draco's grasp so that it was hovering in his eyesight, and from this angle he could see the intricately carved designs on the wooden surface. _'Only the best for Pansy Parkinson.'_

The music was loud in his ear and Draco was by his side, and the ever increasing feeling of headiness was overwhelming him. _'By Merlin, how much I despise Magical Influence, making__ me experience other's emotions.'_ And he absolutely ignored the fact that the excitement may have been his own, and that the happiness was anyone's but Draco's.

Eyeing the gaping hole in the floor, Samael turned to the blonde. "Dragon, would you please levitate me down the hole." Shock and fear overtook the Malfoy's face. "Do not fear Dragon, the Cerberus shall be able to hear the music still," he assured his friend, yet the fear did not leave the blonde's face.

"That's not it Samael! We don't know what's down there! You may injure yourself; I can't allow that to happen!" Draco vehemently declared, his waving arms nearly swinging the music box into the wall.

_'Ah, my loyal friend,'_ "Do not fear Dragon, I shall be fine. Now say it clearly '_wingardium leviosa_' you will be able to perform it, any doubt on your part may result in my falling to the unknown." _'It may have been unnecessary to add that last part,'_ Samael added silently to himself, noticing the slight tremor to Draco's hands. Samael knew from the blonde's resolute stance that Draco had reluctantly agreed, and with a raised wand, Samael also knew that the blonde would succeed.

Smiling softly at the Malfoy, Samael heard the softly spoken incantation, and then he was floating into darkness, destination unknown. It was disconcerting at the worst, yet exhilarating as adrenaline swam through his blood, and he knew that his trembling hands were proof of his happiness. _'Happy as I literally descend into darkness, Merlin.'_

The descent was actually shorter than the Lestrange was expecting and it wasn't long until he found his feet upon uneven ground, due to thick tubes littering the ground. The small cavern (for that was what he realised he was standing in), was surprisingly well-lit, due to small orbs (fixed into what he could only presume were the walls) which lit their immediate vicinity, and Samael discovered that the tubes were in actuality some sort of plant.

"Are you okay Samael?" Draco's voice called, and from his vantage point Samael could just about make out the features of his fair-haired friend.

"Of course I am Dragon, you did really well," Samael replied, smiling when he heard the other boy release a large breath of relief. "Now I am going to levitate you down to where I am," Samael told him, whilst settling the music box upon the ground.

It wasn't long before the blonde had joined him in the cavern, his shaking hands quickly clasping Samael's before the boy could move. "Merlin," the blonde whispered, releasing the Lestrange's hands as quickly as he grasped them. "Merlin." The relief in the boy's eyes so intense that Samael had to look away.

The other boy caught the movement, and silver eyes quickly darted away from Samael to the ground, or to be more specific, at the plant. "Devil's Snare," he murmured, tentatively poking one of the stems with his foot. "Granger must have defeated it; I doubt the other two would have known what to do."

Samael only nodded in agreement with the blonde, motioning for Draco to walk alongside him. There was only one direction they could take – left – since the right was a dead-end, but it soon became clear that the left corridor only led to a chamber ending with a closed door. _'Typical Dumbledore, involving all these twists and turns.'_

This protection of the stone Draco appropriately summarised, was a 'shoddy_, _incompetent task, unworthy of being dubbed a waste of time'. The task itself was to find a key, a _flying_ key, from amongst its numerous flying counterparts, however the task was simple considering that an educated wizard could merely summon the correct key with the correct words.

Unfortunately for the two Slytherins, they were not aware of the summoning spell; however it quickly became apparent that it was not needed. For alongside the many keys flying aimlessly above their heads, there were a significant number impaled in the wooden door opposite – their wings fluttering with futility. And there, below the low swooping keys was an almost pitiable sight, a rusty key – it's wings torn from unforgiving hands – laying on the ground, its body jerking every so moment like that of a dying man spasming in pain.

Draco sneered at the object, whilst quickly retrieving it from the ground. "This must be Black's handiwork, honestly, how lazy could one man be?" he remarked, referring to how weak the charms surrounding the keys were. Samael didn't reply, only indicated for the Malfoy to open the door.

The third protection of the stone was once again a disappointment, however the Lestrange had no doubt that the task was once a truly magnificent display. The only objects in the room were the remnants of a grand wizarding chess match, and the daunting stone arches looming precariously over the inhabitants were nothing compared to the stone faces of the chess-pieces.

The Blacks had won.

The white queen had laid her weapon aside the crumbled mass of a black knight, and it's rider – Ronald Weasley. Debris was scattered across the chequered ground – fallen limbs, grotesque expression, and destroyed weapons – and a thin layer of dust lay across the fallen Gryffindor.

"McGonagall outdid herself I am sure," Samael murmured, and Draco could only agree; after all, how terrifying must an entire army of stone warriors be? And how strong does one's magic have to be to be able to give each and every piece its own will?

"What shall we do with the Weasel?" the blonde questioned, nudging said boy with his shoe.

Samael raised an eyebrow, regarding the unconscious Gryffindor with jaded eyes. "Just leave him. He shall be fine; a mere concussion and broken arm art the most." Draco just nodded at him, before quickly striding towards the door opposite.

Wrapping a graceful hand around the door-knob, Draco opened the door before instantly shutting it again; and expression that could only be described as pure disgust on his face. The blond was drawing deep breaths into his body now, and Samael was sure that if it wasn't explicitly stated _not_ to in the Malfoy rules, his friend would be gagging.

"Troll." the blonde managed between breaths, and Samael's lips twitched in amusement. _'in the dungeon?'_ he quoted to himself, before focusing back upon his friend. "Merlin, it smells terrible!"

"I imagine it does," Samael answered, before quickly removing Draco's grip on the handle, opening the door himself, and pushing them both through. The smell that hit them was _atrocious_ to put it mildly, and it was quite understandable when one took a glance at the Troll – _it_ was much bigger than the one from Samhain.

However, unlike the other Troll who was forcibly beaten around the head with its own club, this troll was happily slumbering, it's club hugged tightly to its chest. The sight was a strange one indeed, the peaceful (almost childlike) expression on the Troll's face was one most had probably never seen.

Samael paused, and Draco eyed him with incredulity. "There are two ways to pacify a Troll," he said aloud, and Draco stared at him in bemusement, as the Lestrange had paused in moving towards the other door in favour of informing the blonde about something he rather didn't want to know. "You can attack it, or – if you're patient enough – persuade it to follow a suggestion. Obviously my brother chose the latter."

Watering silver eyes blinked at Samael, before the blonde continued his movement to the other end of the room – Samael could hardly contain his grin. _'Ah, it is always amusing to annoy him.' _he thought to himself, following after his companion at a more sedate pace.

Quickly taking the lead, Samael gripped Draco's wrist and led him into the next room, before halting at the sight before him – Hermione Granger muttering quietly to herself, whilst her fingers delicately traced a trail over the caps of seven Potion phials. "Granger, a pleasant surprise," the Lestrange drawled, smirking as the girl let out a 'squeak'.

"Oh, Lestrange," she breathed a sigh of relief, _'Relieved to see me? Well, that __is__ interesting.'_ Questioning hazel eyes regarded Draco for a moment. "Malfoy," she greeted, before hurrying on before anyone could interrupt her. "Thank Merlin you're here; I wasn't sure if Neville would get you, but you're here now, so I can now go find Professor McGonagall; Neville's probably gone and gotten Professor Snape.

Without further words to them, she stepped around the two Slytherins, however Samael's hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced at him curiously. "Out of interest, how did you identify us?" he enquired, she shot a glance to his hooded face and smiled a slow smile.

"Why isn't it obvious Lestrange?" her smile seemed to grow. "It's your cane, Merlin, perhaps you should transfigure it into something if you would like to remain inconspicuous. Now, if you excuse me?" she pointedly looked at his hand, and he released her.

"Oh, and Robert's through the black flames," she informed them, and it was only then that Samael noticed a Potions phial in her hand. "To get through them you need to drink the potion in the smallest phial, but I think that it's nearly empty." Her words were flippant, almost playful in their quality, and the Lestrange just inclined his head towards her as she downed the potion and left.

"Well that was certainly interesting," Draco murmured, eyeing the bottles with interest. "The smallest bottle did she say?" he enquired, carefully raising said bottle to his nose before taking a delicate sniff. "I do not think that I've encountered this potion before; it must be one of Severus' untested ones."

Samael shook his head at his friend's actions, before focusing on his cane. _'She recognises me because of my cane? Well, I highly doubt that I will be able to walk without it any time soon, but what could I transfigure it into?'_ he mused, and a faint idea brushed the back of his mind. _'A matchstick into a needle? The only factors for a successful result, are the incantation and intent, so by all means...'_ he tapered off, a small smile blooming on his face.

"Transfiguro." the words confident as Samael raised his wand, aiming the instrument at his cane. Instantly, his firm grip around the eagle slackened as the cane began to change shape; the spread-wings below his palm merged into a steel sphere, whilst his balance immediately worsened because of the less stable footing of the new object. An impressive Sinclair hilt was held firmly in his hand, and the tip of the remaining broadsword rested upon the ground, however there was one detail the Lestrange had forgotten to focus upon during the spell – the weight. Where the sword should have pulled his muscles to the extreme, it still remained the same weight as his cane, a mistake on his part, but one which would have to be rectified later.

Samael glanced at the blonde, to see him staring quizzically at the Lestrange's new instrument, but the Malfoy quickly ignored it in favour of holding the potion phial out to him. It was Samael's turn to look questioning now, for he blonde was offering him the remnants of the potion which would allow the Lestrange to meet his brother. "Take it Samael," was Draco's soft command.

"No," Samael absolutely refused to, the feeling of continuing this journey without the blonde just didn't feel _correct_. He had no idea whether these emotions were due to what he had witnessed in the mirror, or whether they were his own, but one thing was guaranteed – Samael was not leaving without Draco.

So, with a small glare to the blonde, Samael took the offered phial and poured its contents onto his palm. There were only four drops. Dipping his finger in the liquid, he raised said appendage to his friend with only one word. "Suck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So here we are, the end of another chapter! I was going to update sooner, but my laptop crashed and I hadn't backed up any of the chapters... Anyhoo, here it is; I hope you all like it!

Oh, and have a great holiday everyone! :D

**Edit: 22/12/12: **Oh my gosh! I forgot to send a massive 'Thank you' to my beta; sorry ZoeyRowan!


	16. An Accomplishment So Fine

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

_We're born into the night like, children of the damned;_

_And our pain will shine a light to, those who understand._

_Children Surrender – Black Veil Brides_

* * *

><p>The blonde pureblood stared wildly at his friend, his silver eyes wide with shock as he swallowed the saliva clinging to his throat. Surely Samael must be joking? However from the stern stare on the Lestrange's face, and his still raised finger, Draco had to assume not. "The potion has to be ingested Dragon, and even this insignificant amount should prove enough," came Samael's no-nonsense voice.<p>

All Malfoy breeding and decorum were screaming at the blonde to sneer at the Lestrange and leave with the remaining dignity he still possessed, however those ardent emeralds staring into his eyes proved to be his downfall. Swallowing nervously, the blonde child stepped closer. _'It's just his finger Draco, there is no need to get this worked up.' _Hesitantly, the mouth – renowned for its cold lashings – opened, and his pink tongue hesitatingly lapped at the dripping finger of his friend.

Immediately the sensation of ice filled his bones, but Draco couldn't linger upon the strangeness of the feeling, as Samael ingested the remaining potion from his palm and pushed the two of them through the cheerily-burning black flames.

The room they entered differed to the others; it was much larger, so large that it subsequently appeared much more barren, and the lone pillars supporting the room seemed to be carved from the rock itself. There were two occupants in the room, one was the bound, bloodied and screaming form of Robert Potter, and the other had their back turned to them, a drawn hood cloaked their features.

"Let me out Snivillus! Let me out you slimy snake!" Robert demanded, and Samael chuckled lowly in amusement. Draco merely swallowed the insult hanging on his tongue, and shook his head at the boy. _'Merlin, he believes Severus is the one attempting to capture the stone?'_ the Malfoy thought incredulously, before turning his eyes to his friend._ 'And by the looks of Samael's stance, he did n__ot appreciate that slight towards Severus.'_

The Gryffindor boy turned his head at the noise of their entrance, unveiled hope shining in his eyes before they dimmed. Draco could almost feel Samael's grin at the Gryffindor's pain. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Draco quickly walked to a respectful distance, before bowing deeply at the waist with a low and reverent 'my Lord'.

Samael followed. "Brother," his smooth voice carried throughout the room, his voice reverberating from the walls. "It has been too long since we last properly conversed." Lestrange began striding towards the other man.

The man spun upon his heel to face Samael, before (surprisingly) pulling him into a rough hug. "Sadly, I must agree," he replied in familiar voice, just as charming as Samael's. "I never had the opportunity to speak with you unhindered by unwanted ears." _'The Dark Lord is so similar to Samael, or should that be Samael is similar to the Dark Lord? They both over-complicate their sentences.'_

A small whimper brought Draco from his reverie, and reminded him to who exactly he was beside. Snarling at the cringing mess next to him, the blonde raised his wand and levelled it between Robert Potter's tearing hazel eyes. "_Conquinisco_," he intoned, watching as the proud Potter's body was forced into a fierce bow, and pained gasps escaped the Robert's throat as he foolishly attempted to fight the spell.

The bonded brothers paid no attention to the Malfoy's actions, yet Draco knew that an ancient pair of assessing eyes were upon him, so he straightened his back, lowered his shoulders and tilted his chin into the Malfoy mask. However, the gaze upon Draco did not waver in its intensity, and he had to fight hard to not shiver and divert his eyes from the man.

It was an immediate relief when the eyes left him, to glance at Samael once more. "A fine companion, brother," the Dark Lord noted, and a burst of pride swelled in Draco's chest at the approval from the wizard Draco's father had always emulated, the wizard that (alongside Samael), Draco had always wanted to meet.

Samael's only reply was a sharp nod at Draco. "I see that you have not revealed yourself to our guest," Samael murmured quietly, "and he seems to be under the impression that you, my darling brother, are Severus." A rich laugh echoed throughout the room at Lestrange's words,

'_The Dark Lord…is __laughing__,_' That lone thought wandered through Draco's shocked mind, and only his breeding and training stopped him from gaping at the chuckling from the darkest wizard to date.

"Severus?" the Dark Lord questioned, and wide silver eyes watched in amazement and growing jealousy as the Dark Lord comfortably rested his arm upon Samael's shoulders. "Well, I do admit that he does seem like the type who would, and I probably would have assumed it was him as well," at this, the Dark Lord lowered his hood, and the unmistakable face of Quirrel stared at Draco and Robert with a predatory smile.

"W-what? P-professor Quirrel?" Robert Potter's stuttered, his hazel eyes round with disbelief. "B-but why? You're not evil!"

Laughter overcame the Dark Lord once more at the Gryffindor's words, and Draco swore that he could see a smirk on Samael's face. "My my, he sounds just like p-poor s-stuttering P-Proffesor Q-Quirrel, does he not, my brother?"

"I must concur, he does indeed," Samael answered, resting upon the sword lazily. _'Oh, he is definitely smirking under that hood of his.' _"The poor little lion must be frightened."

"I am _not _frightened!" Robert counted hotly.

"The little lion is also extremely brave, and extremely, _extremely _foolish to be raising his voice at my brother," the dark, sadistic warning was unmistakable in the Dark Lord's tone, as he glared at the cowering red-head.

"W-Who are you? You aren't Professor Quirrel."

"No," the Dark Lord agreed, "I am not Professr Quirrel, he has been dead for a while – which is a shame since he was a very good conversationalist – but he offered his body, and I am not known for denying what would benefit me greatly."

"You're an evil wizard! You are, aren't you? You're an evil wizard!"

"My, his incessant squawking is annoying me," the Dark Lord hissed out in obvious anger. "And one would imagine that when surrounded by wizards of a far higher calibre, and an obviously darker orientation than himself that Robert Potter would have _stopped talking_."

'_By Circe, __that__ is what I've been wondering since we walked in,' _Draco thought, watching with amusement as the Potter's face paled of colour, and his eyes widened even further.

"He is a Gryffindor remember, and they are hardly known for their intelligence," Samael remarked.

"Well I wouldn't say that, after all, that Granger girl is quite smart for being a Gryffindor… and a muggleborn."

"Granger is not a Gryffindor, not at heart anyway," Lestrange informed his brother smoothly, ignoring the inquisitive look being sent his way. "Anyway, let us ignore that for now, have you obtained the stone?"

"Yes I have," the Dark Lord answered with triumph, holding the ruby-red stone before his brother. "I have had it for at least an hour, our favourite Gryffindor appeared about half an hour ago, and I knew I only had to wait for my darling brother to grace me with his presence, I was beginning to wonder whether you hadn't been able to figure me out. What took you so long? Were you waiting for blondie to fix his hair?"

'_He made a joke. The Dark Lord made a __joke__, first he began laughing and now he's being funny. By Circe, this day has turned from strange to downright insanity. The book on bondings, discovering the__ Dark Lord has been impersonating our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor (which is more than a little ironic), then Samael's strange reaction to the Mirror, me having to…__suck__ Samael's finger for a potion, and now, now the Dark Lord is acting human. Ju__st what is happening?'_

"Dumbledore had not placed any protections around the stone as far as I am aware, though no doubt he has some obscure spell so that those who do not possess love cannot pass, or other such rot, but I heard that he was moving the Mirror of Erised for extra protection. What I am eager to know however, is how he got the Mirror to begin with, because as far as I knew, it was under the protection of the Ministry as a 'classified artifact'" he mused.

"Well we can hardly label the Ministry as being 'apt' and 'thorough', when the entrance to the Ministry itself is in Muggle London, where one only has to state their meaning of being at the Ministry," Samael countered logically, "It is all rather inept and incompetent, I could probably state that I was the 'Dark Lord Voldemort here to murder Minister Fudge' and not get any type of armed defence in response."

A smirk stretched Quirrel's face at Samael's words. "I highly doubt that the Ministry would have an armed response for me, even if the Ministry was half-way decent, I do after all have a rather infamous and bloody history." Samael conceded this fact with a nod, and a murmured 'true', but they were soon distracted because the silent form of Robert Potter had begun whimpering.

"Y-You're You-Know-Who? B-But you can't be him, he's dead; my brother killed him! You can't be him, you just can't. You can't be him, you _can't _be him." _'Eurgh, he's disgusting, why am I standing next to him again? Oh yes, to retain a respectful distance from the greate__st man alive, but still, I could at least have better company.' _Draco could almost hear Samael's laugh if he could hear him, he was grumbling _again_.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night little Gryffindor," the Dark Lord called to him, before giving him yet another predatory smile, which just made the Potter whimper even louder. _'I swear that if __this cretin even dares to open his bowels near my vicinity, then I will dismember him, __sans magic__,'_

"Y-You-Know-Who. Gods, he's alive, we're all dead."

"Well, I do believe that it's time for me to leave. I have got the stone, had a chance to meet my little brother once again, and acknowledged that he's in good company. Now, the only thing that I have on my mind is to experiment with this little gem until I have the desired results," the Dark Lord told them, placing the stone somewhere in his robes. "Now, I do believe that there is a door hidden somewhere near here," the Dark Lord murmured softly, obviously lost in concentration as he studied the walls before him.

'_That must be parseltongue he's speaking, Circe, I've never heard it before but Merlin it's a fascinating language,' _Draco thought to himself, admiring the way the sibilant 's's rolled from the Dark Lord's tongue. What was strange however, was the way Samael was staring at his brother, nonplussed at the strange new language being spoken right before him.

A short amount of time past, before the grinding of rocks could be heard; loud and thunderous, yet distant. The sound grew closer and closer, the noise of it almost deafening, and Draco could only watch in wonder as the wall in front of the Dark Lord slid to the side, revealing a dimly lit pathway. A smirk lit the man's face at this development, and he swiftly entered the passage, emitting a silver light from his body as he stepped further into darkness, until all you could see was an iridescent shimmering shape of a man.

"Merlin," escaped Draco's throat, as he eyes the ethereal presence which was the Dark Lord. It was difficult to describe the man, in Draco's opinion, sure, you could describe him superficially, talk about how his face was this shaped, and his eyes that colour, but to purely _describe_ him. Talk about how his presence evokes the strangest feelings, or about how his charismatic personality could charm a son from his family, or talk about how he can make you fear for your life with his eyes alone.

"I know," Samael murmured in the blonde's ear, "He is just so much _more_ than I was expecting too; he's a phenomenon in himself." The raven-haired child turned to face the blonde and cocked his head to the side; his emerald eyes shone brightly under the hood.

"I have never had a proper family before, now merely a year has passed, and I have gained doting parents, an intelligent, powerful older brother, and if I say so," the Lestrange faltered, and an emotion so unusual on Samael's face appeared – uncertainty. "I have gained a good friend, something that I once thought impossible, and I don't want to find out what I would do without you; so you can never leave."

Draco blinked at Samael, his silver eyes wide at the soft command, before his words took effect and an insane smile stretched his face. "I will never leave you," Draco's voice was layered with all the fondness and care he held for the boy. "You will never be alone again, you shall always have me. Always."

Samael stared at the blonde, and nodded curtly. "Good," he replied, before entering the revealed passageway, and walking swiftly towards the shining form of the Dark Lord. _'Oh,'_ Draco thought, and his smile only grew larger at the realisation. _'He's avoiding me, Samael Lestrange is embarrassed and avoiding me; I never thought that I would be able to see the day. Gosh, will Samael ever stop surprising me, or stop me from making me care for him a__ny more than I already do?'_

"- where the largest population of Thestrals are; I do believe Mother and Father are near the northern tip. Shall I write them?" Samael's voice carried through the passage, and Draco smiled at the Lestrange's back as he walked alongside the Dark Lord.

"If you wish, darling Brother, however they will soon be able to find me with little difficulty," he returned, placing a heavy hand upon Samael's shoulder. "I am proud of you Samael, extremely proud," his voice as heavy as his hand, before he straightened his back. "Now, this passage leads to corridor just around the corner from the Great Hall," he informed them, as he had now turned his intense gaze onto Draco again. "Do you know where we have just been, little Brother?" he enquired lightly. Samael shook his head at the Dark Lord. "The Chamber of Tactics."

Samael stiffed beside Draco, and silver eyes glanced at the boy with confusion and worry. "Gryffindor's chamber?" Samael whispered, and Draco's eyes rounded in amazement. _'Gryffindor's Chamber? He __had__ a chamber?'_

"That's right little Brother, it has fallen into disrepair due to its disuse, as Gryffindor neglected to place preserving charms upon it, but that was the Chamber fabled to have produced some of the best war-plans and strategies ever to have graced this land."

"I can hardly believe it," Samael murmured, and both the Dark Lord and Draco smiled fondly at the Lestrange.

"I know Little One, and it has been a real pleasure to have spoken with you properly, but I must bid you adieu. You as well Little Malfoy, I have no doubt that you make your Father proud," the Dark Lord told them, before disapparating with a sharp 'crack'.

"H-He just acknowledged me Samael, the greatest wizard in the world just acknowledged me," the blonde stuttered, and a pout crossed Samael's face. _'He's pouting now? Will wonders ever cease?'_

Samael almost whined. "I thought _I_ was the greatest wizard in the world, Draco."

The blonde gaped at his friend in wonder, and a snort escaped Samael's mouth at the sight. "Prat." But the insult was as fond as the grin on his face.

* * *

><p><em>Friday 15<em>_th__ March 1992 – 07:58_

"My dear students," the Headmaster began in a grave voice, instantly grabbing the students' attention. "You may have noticed that Professor Quirrel is absent today, it seems as if he has contracted Dragon Pox. There is a surprising number of staff who have never suffered Dragon Pox, and because Dragon Pox is highly contagious, I cannot allow you or the Professors in close proximity to Professor Quirrel. Therefore, as of today Hogwarts is officially closed."

Immediately the school was split, the majority cheering for the surprising end of the year, and the rest frowning at what effect this would have on their upcoming exams, or for unknown reasons. However, the Headmaster wouldn't allow for the students to discuss amongst themselves any longer, for he called for quiet.

"The Hogwarts Express shall be arriving 9AM tomorrow, and letters have been sent to your parents; for those of you taking your OWLS and NEWTS, the exams will still be held at Hogwarts, and further information will be in your letters. The House Cup shall be presented at dinner tonight, now enjoy your meal," the man declared, raising his hands into the air as the food appeared upon the table.

"Honestly, that trick only works for first-year Muggleborns," Pansy Parkinson scoffed, whilst eyeing the Headmaster with disdain.

"Yes, well Dumbledore isn't renowned for being entirely sane," Blaise Zabini returned, before carefully forking a slice of beef onto his plate. "But what I want to know is why he hasn't deducted any more points from Gryffindor, I mean both Potter and Weasley were found somewhere on the third floor this morning which is why they're in the hospital wing, at last Granger had the intelligence to alert the Professors to the situation and escape from being punished."

"I didn't hear about that part," Parkinson murmured, and she ever-so-subtly gave the Gryffindor girl an approving glance.

"_You _wouldn't have," Blaise smirked, watching as fury lit itself in her eyes. "Unlike you, _I _talk to students from other Houses, and therefore get information from them. A second-year Ravenclaw saw Granger leaving, and returning with Professor Snape."

"Are you sure the Ravenclaw told you the correct information?" the female Slytherin questioned dubiously, "Professor Snape followed Granger to the third floor, and let her go without punishment?"

"I know it sounds extremely far-fetched but it's the truth," the boy replied, nodding to Draco and Samael as they glanced at him and Pansy. "And I do believe that Professor Snape's actions have something to do with Lestrange, I mean he somehow manipulated the Gryffindors into incriminating themselves at Samhaih, and Longbottom is seen talking to him every now and then. Somehow, he has a degree of power over certain Gryffindors, and what's better at removing suspicion from yourself and your allegiances than to have a Light wizard Lion defending you?"

A thoughtful look crossed Pansy's face at his reasoning, "I suppose that does make sense, but you're not expecting me to become _friendly _with Muggleborn Lions are you?" the incredulity in her voice, telling Blaise exactly what his friend thought.

"Of course not Pansy, just talk to other Houses. The more you keep to only Slytherins, the more others see you as a threat, Professor Snape told us that we needed a mask to hide our true selves, and most of us assumed that we had to be neutral, but for a true mask shouldn't we project a false self? And even then, we may not need to be completely false, perhaps we just have to siphon a particular personality trait or belief of ours? So, you could talk about clothes, jewelery and gossip, and I talk about charms and Quidditch."

The growing smile on Pansy's face, told Blaise that she was liking what she was hearing, and he sent a small smile her way too. Pansy thought for a few seconds, before telling her friend. "I've heard that Morag McDougal, and Sally-Anne Perks aren't too bad at conversation, and apparently Morag knows every rumour and Sally-Anne is quite knowledgeable about jewelery."

"See Pansy, I knew you would be able to do it. Start off small, then expand your reach, but remember never do anything if you cannot benefit from it," Blaise told her, smiling once she nodded.

"Zabini is correct Parkinson, the more you interact with other Houses, the more you learn about them, and the more you learn about them, the more you can aid the Cause," Samael Lestrange softly said, causing Pansy to startle and glare at the boy.

"The Cause?" she enquired when she gathered herself together, but Samael only sent her a predatory smile.

"Surely you aren't saying that the Dark has gained a new leader?" Blaise questioned, his hazel eyes burning with interest and confusion.

"Who is to say that the predecessor ever left?" Draco added his first words to the conversation, the expression on his face identical to the one on Samael's.

"Surely not?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide with wonder. Yet, the two unofficial Heads of Slytherin were nowhere to be seen. "Surely not?"

* * *

><p>"Why did we do that again?" the blonde Slytherin questioned, as the two boys entered their Potions classroom. Despite the fact that there would be no classes, the two boys knew that their Potions Master would make and appearance to account for all the Potions ingredients and equipment.<p>

"It is quite simple, Dragon," Samael murmured, whilst leaning against the desk nearest to him. "If Zabini and Parkinson believe that the Cause is still active then they will have an incentive to join, and if they believe that the Dark Lord is still the wizard commanding the Cause then they will have an even large incentive. After all, it would have been stories of His feats that they would have grown up listening to, and you can understand as you have met him yourself, Zabini and Parkinson will want to impress him."

Draco nodded slowly at Samael's words. "That makes sense," the blonde murmured quietly, "What do you make of what Zabini said about Severus?"

Samael blinked at the other boy, "Whilst we visited him last night, I may have revealed that Granger was not the true Gryffindor she portrays herself to be."

"So he followed her to satiate his own curiosity?" Draco questioned, pausing from where he was investigating Severus' stock-cupboard, before snorting. "That sounds like him."

Samael could only smile in agreement, "Yes that is true. At least we know where Andras inherited his curiosity from."

Draco looked thoughtful, "I've never thought of that before, because Andras is _so _curious I never thought that he inherited it from Severus."

The door opened with a soft creak. "Why – pray tell – is my name being mentioned by you two horrors?" the silky baritone of Severus questioned from the doorway.

"It's simple my fine sir, your good name is revered amongst many circles, and we are merely members of those circles," Draco smoothly answered with a mischievous grin, and Severus only shook his head at his Godson.

"I take it that Dumbledore has discovered that the stone is missing," Samael stated, gathering the Potion Master's attention away from the smirking Malfoy.

Black eyes blinked at the Lestrange. "Yes. He arrived back here just before Midnight, and convened an impromptu staff-meeting the following hour," at this, Severus leveled a glare at the two unabashed Slytherins. "Professor Quirrel was the only person not to appear – aside from Madame Pompfrey who was bustling around Potter and Weasley – and upon searching his chambers, everything was gone."

"And he cannot found out why Quirrel stole the stone, as he most likely had you swear an Oath of some sorts," Draco thought aloud, and Severus nodded in agreement. "So he's waiting for Potter to wake up then? Since he was found in the Chamber?"

Samael snorted at Draco's words, causing the other two Slytherins to stare at him curiously. "Dumbledore is not going to acquire any worth-while information from Potter,"

"But he knows that the Dark Lord was possessing Quirrel!" the blonde burst out.

"Yes, but he will not inform anyone of this." Samael sighed at the incredulous looks being sent his way. "Robert Potter has spent the entirety of his life under his brother's shadow, and now that he has discovered that his brother did not actually perform the job that he is renowned for,"

"He will want to keep the information secret," Severus murmured, his eyes lighting in realization. "He knows that no-one will believe him, especially his parents, so he will gloat to himself in private, probably not even telling Weasley."

"Why wouldn't he just show the memories?" Draco questioned, his confusion evident on his face.

"Because they are _his_, he was the one who witnessed them, and he was the one who discovered the truth, therefore he believes that only he should be able to relive them." Severus answered, whilst gently batting away Draco's hands from his prised gillyweed.

"It seems terribly idiotic to me," the blonde commented, frowning as Severus pushed the glass jar further away from him.

"You have to understand his point of view Dragon," Samael stated, before moving to place himself between Draco and the gillyweed. "I neither like nor sympathize with Robert Potter, however we are all products of our environments, and it just so happens that Potter's habitat was littered with jealousy which has twisted him into a very bitter soul."

The blond scrunched his nose up in distaste at Samael's words. "He has no right to be bitter! He grew up with his parents and got everything he wanted, he's had emotional and physical support from them; how can he be bitter!"

"He is spoiled Draco," Severus answered, noticing Samael's blank face. "His parents undoubtedly showered him with presents and praise, however whenever he spoke to anyone else it would be his brother they enquired after, not him."

Draco huffed, "Well I still do not agree with it."

"You do not have to, Dragon," Samael murmured, "The only thing you are required to do, is to accompany me wherever I may go."

"And where may that be?" Draco asked with a small grin, noting the way Samael had seemingly withdrew himself emotionally from the conversation.

"To the Owlery, I must send my parents a letter."

"Then let's go," the blonde urged, grasping Samael's hand tightly in his own. "We mustn't not send your mother a letter, I may be flayed alive." The lightness of his voice offsetting the seriousness of his face, making Samael smile a small smile.

"Yes, that would probably be the best idea." And Samael pulled his hand from Draco's, before leading the way towards the door, so that he missed the frown on his friend's face. "Are you coming Dragon?" he questioned, when he noticed that the blonde hadn't moved.

"Oh, yes of course," the blonde answered distractedly, before turning towards the Potions Master. "Farewell Severus, I'm sure that we'll be seeing you and yours soon?"

Severus inclined his head at the Malfoy, "Indeed, your Mother has invited Andras, Remus and I to Summer Solstice, and since Remus and I missed Andras' first Yule, we are more than willing to accompany him."

"Of course, well, until then," Draco replied before exiting the room, leaving Severus to stare at the door, mumbling about 'insecure boys who should communicate and share more with one another, before feeling idiotically pitiful about themselves.'

* * *

><p>Saturday 16th March 1992 – 15:36<p>

"Rita Skeeter," a deep male voice greeted, as he took the summer chair opposite her. They were seated in the outside area of a small cosy café at the heart of Diagon Alley, but the flimsy chairs which they were sat on were precariously perched upon the cobbled stones, causing one to steady themselves every once and a while.

"Percival Brockling," she answered with a small smile, before taking a dainty sip from her drink. "Thank you for meeting me. Would you like something to drink?" she enquired, but the man just declined.

"What am I really here for? I highly doubt that you asked me here to write an article on my work for Child Services," he questioned, whilst absently flipping his hazel hair from his face. Rita merely smiled at the man once again.

"I uncovered some rather startling and disgusting news in regards to the treatment of a child, yet I am not allowed to publish the information because my main source of information is a Muggle, and I cannot take the information to Law Enforcement for the same reason."

Percival raised his eyebrow at the woman, and leant backwards in his seat. "Any case of abuse is confidential, and I cannot just reveal it to anyone, especially not a reporter. On that topic, what happened to you? You used to be a serious reporter, one of the best for the Prophet, but now you've turned into some third-rate gossipmonger."

The blonde woman waved his words away, "I have been concentrating upon this case I mentioned."

Percival regarded her with serious eyes, "You have only been writing about the Potters, surely you are not implying what I believe you are implying?"

Rita's eyes hardened upon his, "Harry Potter has been horridly abused for his short life, and I believe he is dead, but my editor told me to come to you, which tells _me_ that _you_ must know something. Now considering you retired due to a terrible case of abuse, and the news of Harry Potter's life made me physically sick, I do believe that we are talking about the same case."

"You think that Harry Potter's case was handled by Child Services?"

"Yes. Either post-mortem, or Merlin help him, whilst he was alive – and saved," she told him, and her blue eyes turned pleading upon his. "Please, I just want to know if he is still alive. I can't let those monsters get away with murdering that little child, and if he is still alive, which I hope he is, then I still want those monsters locked in the deepest, darkest hole of Azkaban."

Percival stared hard into her eyes, nodding to himself at something he saw in them. "I can't tell you about the details of the case," he stated, nodding when she agreed. "But I can tell you that Harry Potter no longer exists; he is alive and has been adopted to some of the most loving people I have ever met."

A loud sigh of relief escaped Rita's throat. "Merlin, that's brilliant news. What is he like?"

Percival stared at her. "This won't be written down, will it?"

She stated that it wouldn't, before taking another sip of her drink. The ex-Head of Child Services was silent for a few minutes, and Rita began to think that he wouldn't answer.

"The boy who one was Harry Potter is a very smart and manipulative boy. He had me believing that he was an innocent child for an entire month after I met him. However, I viewed the memories over and over again, and I noticed the calculating eyes and proud demeanour hidden beneath the shaking exterior," Percival shook his head in amusement, "Circe, if he was my child, I would be the proudest parent in the world, then again," he paused with a smirk, "I _was_ a Slytherin, and that boy is the best Slytherin I have ever seen."

"You are saying that the boy isn't innocent?" the blonde woman asked, a sour look upon her face, as if she was refraining from glaring at the man.

"Believe me Rita, that child hasn't been innocent since he was an extremely young boy. You do not go through the trauma, hurt and betrayal that he has been through, and walk out still keeping your rose-tinted spectacles in place."

"Ah, I see," she murmured, smiling at the man once again. "I am sorry for over-reacting, but I feel quite protective over this boy."

The man smiled his first genuine smile of the day. "Many of us do." They were silent for a few more minutes; the blonde was watching as the hazel-haired man before her relaxed into his seat, and stared at the maroon paint which was beginning to peel from the sign above. "I cannot allow you to publish this information; I hope you understand," he told her, and she waved him away once again.

"I know, besides I still do not have enough information to accuse them properly. You are not allowed to reveal any more of his case to me, so the only people I can rely upon for a conviction are his adoptive family. You can of course be a witness to the adoption, and I'm sure that the spells upon the case file will be removed when used as evidence." Percival inclined his head at her thoughts, and silent question.

"Yes, for the case file to be viewed by civilians, approval must be granted by the family, however should that case ever be investigated by the Aurors – whether that be due to being a part of an investigation, or merely because it was placed upon a desk – the confidentiality spells would be removed."

"And of course, none of this will happen without _his _approval, if the child is this genius mastermind?" she enquired lightly, sighing as Percival shook his head with a smirk.

"I understand, thank you for your time Mr. Brockling," she murmured, as she rose to her feet, straightening her robes as she did so.

Percival rose as well, but he caught Rita's hand as she was turning to leave; ignoring the questioning blue eyes, he placed a chaste kiss upon her knuckles. "Forgive my lack of manners at our meeting, Madame Skeeter; it has been enlightening and a pleasure to speak to such a beautiful perceptive woman."

A light blush stained the blonde's cheeks at his words, it was of course common courtesy for Percival Brockling, but she had forgotten the charming ways most purebloods (and those who respected the Old Ways) performed. So, with a shaky smile, she retrieved her hand from his grasp, and said the one word he wanted to hear. "Forgiven."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry it took so long guys, but I was in two-minds whether to make this chapter extra-long or to make two separate chapters, but I've chosen the latter. I'm halfway through chapter 17, so that one will be finished soon. Ta-ta!

A massive thank you to my beta - ZoeyRowan! :)


	17. Previously Unimaginable

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><strong>Previously Unimaginable<strong>

_Sometimes a 'thank you' may lead you to places previously unimaginable._

* * *

><p>Saturday 16th March 1992 – 17:03<p>

The four of them were sat at the large, ornately-carved dining table, which was laden with the feast the House-Elves had prepared. The Lord and Lady were at opposite ends, whilst the two pre-teen boys were along the edges, engaging one another in conversation. However, with a crafted smirk, the dark-haired child opened his mouth to speak, and the tallest two blondes stared at him in shock.

"Would you mind repeating that again please Samael?" Lucius Malfoy asked quietly, whilst slowly placing his cutlery to the side, less he do something unimaginable and drop them.

"Certainly Lucius," the child answered, "I said that you should not be surprised to have a conversation with my brother in the near future."

"It's true Father," Draco added, and blue eyes blinked at the child. "The Dark Lord _spoke_ to me, he said that you must be proud of me. Merlin that was such a thrill." And the widened silver eyes were almost wild with their emotion.

"Wait my Dragon," this time it was Narcissa who spoke, "Are you telling me that _you _met the Dark Lord?" and Draco only nodded furtively at his Mother, before a surprising grin spread across her face. "Circe, that's wonderful news!"

"That truly is an accomplishment Dragon," Lucius said quietly, "However, how is it that you came to meet him? I dare say that he wasn't just loitering at the castle, especially since the last Bella and Rodo heard of him he was in Albania."

Draco glanced at Samael, a question evident in his eyes; Samael nodded at his friend, causing Draco to beam at him. "Well Father, this all began when Samael and I figured out that the Dark Lord had actually possessed our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," the Malfoy heir stated, before excitedly regaling his parents with the events which led up to him meeting the Dark Lord.

Lucius' and Narcissa's expressions ranged from pride to fear at appropriate parts of the story, (Narcissa had to actually physically check that both Draco and Samael were healthy when Draco informed her of the Cerberus), with Samael interjecting whenever Draco omitted any details.

A little while later, their food had gone cold, but the elder Malfoys were once again staring at the two boys in shock. Lucius was gazing at his child in pride and Narcissa was simply smiling at him. "Does Severus know?" After all, both Narcissa and Lucius knew how important the Dark Lord was to the Potions Master.

Samael glanced at the two of them, "Yes, in fact Severus was the first person to speak to him. He discovered the secret in January, I believe."

"That sneaky man," Lucius said, however they all knew that it wasn't meant as an insult.

"I do believe that my brother asked Severus not to reveal the secret, and since Severus has a closer relationship to my brother than merely servant-master, he would not disobey him," Samael reasoned, before taking a sip from his water.

Lucius inclined his head towards the boy. "Your Father firecalled earlier," he told Samael, "Your parents and Uncle shall be at Lestrange Manor in a couple of hours, and they will be collecting you shortly after." The Lestrange heir merely inclined his head, and reached for the delicious looking desert before him.

* * *

><p>6th April 1992<p>

It was an unusually sunny day, the pale-blue sky was clear (apart from the odd wispy, white cloud floating aimlessly by), and the birds were singing, which meant that the crowds were bustling down the crowded streets of Diagon Alley at an outrageous pace. That was, except from a lone dark-haired boy, hardly past the age of twelve, who was walking sedately down the cobbled streets, stopping periodically to flex his ankle.

"Oh, the poor dear," a feminine voice called, and the dainty blonde woman raised her hand to her mouth whilst her eyes searched for the boy's parents. "Surely, they cannot have left him in Diagon by himself?" she murmured to herself, yet the man standing beside her heard.

"What was that Alice, dear?" he enquired, casting his warm hazel eyes at his wife.

"That child, Frank, he's all by himself," she told him, and Frank followed her gaze to see the boy neatly step around a beggar, whilst throwing the man a few coins. "Well, he's certainly got old blood, I'll tell you that," he commented, after noticing that the coins that the child threw were galleons. "But it looks like he is perfectly fine by himself, Alice."

"Frank!" and her aghast expression told him exactly how enraged his wife was at him. "He is just a child, he must be Neville's age, wait," she paused, casting her eyes at her son who had just purchased his newest plant. "Neville," she called sweetly, causing the boy to cast a wary glance in his Father's direction (who only offered a shoulder-shrug and lopsided grin in return). "Do you know who that boy is?" she asked, directing her head towards the child in question, "The one with the dark-hair and the cane?"

Instantly, Neville searched the boy out, his eyes lighting when he caught sight of him. "Yes, that's Samael. You do remember me mentioning him?"

"Of course we do dear," Alice assured her son, "He's the one who has been helping you with some Potions work, hasn't he?"

Neville nodded enthusiastically at her, "Yes, and he has helped me work on my confidence," the boy added.

"Oh, well then we'll have to thank him then," Alice decided, ignoring the look of horror on her husband's and son's faces, as she walked towards where the boy was peering at Madam Malkins' newest display.

As they approached the boy, Alice noted two things, one of them being that he wasn't as small as he appeared from the distance, and the other being that he was extremely wary, because the boy had stiffened as they neared and turned to watch their approach with a guarded expression.

"Lord Longbottom, Lady Longbottom," Samael greeted, whilst bowing at the waist, "It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and it is a pleasure to meet you once more, Neville," Samael's smooth voice addressed the Gryffindor boy, who was ineffectively attempting hide his embarrassed face behind his hair.

Alice smiled warmly at the boy, "I've heard good things about you Samael," she told him, causing Samael to raise his eyebrow at Neville. "I must thank you for helping my son with his work, and his confidence, I know that he's a terribly shy boy."

"Confidence, ma'am? I am sorry, but I do not understand," Samael returned, staring quizzically at the Longbottom heir.

"Y-you told Professor Snape that I was a true Gryffindor, that I was the most noble of them," Neville quietly stated, looking quite lost at his Mother's expectant look.

"Oh," Lestrange murmured, "Yes, and I still stand by what I said, however Severus would have realised it by the end of the year anyway," he explained, "When it became apparent that you were not as foolish and idiotic as the rest of your House."

"Severus?" Alice questioned, watching the exchange with interest. "Do you make a habit of calling your Professors by their given names?"

Samael smiled at the woman, "No ma'am, only those who have given me their express permission to do so."

"Why would Severus Snape allow you to use his first name?" Frank asked, looking at the boy in a new light, after all, Severus Snape was a suspected Death Eater, and those who associate with Death Eaters are criminals.

Samael's smile turned sad at the Auror's question. "That would be because Severus saved my life once, and he is a family friend."

"He saved your life?" the man asked, whilst stepping out of the way of an elderly witch, and in doing so missed the small smirk which graced Samael's features.

"Yes," he answered, his expression once more turning mournful. "I was suffering from extensive internal bleeding when Severus found me, and he arranged for my healing, therein saving my life."

The three Longbottom's were staring at the boy in horror, however it was Neville who asked the question they were all thinking. "Did your parents do that to you?"

Immediately, Samael frowned and his eyes flashed with righteous anger, however his voice was surprisingly calm. "No, my parents were not the reason for my injuries, they are the most loving parents a child could have. The people who gave me my injuries were my torturers," he explained, however judging by their horrified expressions, he doubted that they fully understood. "I was stolen from my parents when I was fourteen months old, and raised with my torturers until quite later in life."

"Why didn't your parents find you? Why didn't they involve the authorities?" Alice almost cried, her blue eyes watering with emotion.

"My parents were suspected Death Eaters; and despite the fact that neither of them carry the Dark Mark they were still suspected of following He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and back then it was Azkaban first, trial second, was it not, Auror Longbottom?" Samael explained, smiling a frigid smile at Frank. "So you can understand why my parents did not want to alert the authorities to their location."

"What about searching spells?" Frank asked, apparently undeterred at the boy's words, yet they all could see the shame in his eyes.

Samael raised one shoulder in a shrug. "They all came back negative, which either meant I was hidden behind powerful wards, or that I was dead."

"Who took you?" Frank once again questioned the boy, and at this the child smiled.

"Muggles," Samael simply said, "However, they were aided by some extremely influential and powerful witches a wizards, so I cannot seek my vengeance yet."

"Yet?" Alice queried, frowning at the child.

"Yes, Lady Longbottom. I will be seeking my vengeance, for the pains that I endured, and for the crimes that these monsters played against my family. My family is not one to simply let injustices go unpunished," he answered, "I am sure that you are not fully comprehending the sheer amount of damage that those Muggles did to me, as I am sure that 'internal bleeding' does not fully explain what happened. If we were not in such a public place then I would show you the scars which cover my body, however I have no wish to be arrested by your husband for indecent exposure."

"How did Severus rescue you then, if you were hidden behind such strong wards?" Frank queried, suspicion evident in his voice.

"Again, the answer is quite simple, the Muggles had no desire to keep me in their presence much longer. Apparently, the money they had received from my kidnappers far outweighed the money they would gain from selling me, so after a rather vicious beating (which was leading to my death), they abandoned me down a random alley in London, where Severus found me."

"S-Selling you?" the Mother stuttered, her face white as she grasped her son tightly to herself.

Samael smiled coldly at her. "Yes, I have heard that child prostitution pays quite well in the Muggle world, for the guardians that is, not the child."

"Oh, Circe." Alice was almost hyperventilating now, staring at Samael in a mixture of sadness, horror and sympathy.

Frank however, was staring at the child with scrutiny, "You do not like Muggles, do you?" he questioned, gazing hard at the boy.

Samael was not affected, and merely locked his emerald eyes back on the man. "No."

"What about half-bloods, muggle-borns?"

"A witch is a witch, and a wizard a wizard regardless of their birth parents' status. I – like most other pureblood families – have no quarrel with a person's blood, but rather their actions."

Frank was looking at the child in confusion now. "I do not understand, don't you call Muggleborns, Mudbloods?"

"I personally do not, however the term Mudblood does not actually refer to a person's blood status, many purelbloods dub Muggleborn's 'Mudbloods' because they 'dirty' our metaphorical 'blood', they corrupt our traditions with their Muggle ones," Samael answered, yet the three were staring at him with blank faces, so with a sigh, Samael asked: "Neville, what did you celebrate during winter break?"

The boy in question frowned in confusion. "Christmas, why?"

"Now, Lord Longbottom when you were Neville's age, what did you celebrate during winter?"

"Christm-, no that's not right," he murmured, before his eyes widened in realisation. "We used to celebrate Yule."

"Exactly," and Lestrange was glad to note that the eldest Longbottom was understanding the point Samael was attempting to make. "Due to the heavy influence of Muggleborns and Muggle culture, our traditions have been lost. The most important event, Yule – a time where we honour Magic herself – has been replaced with Christmas, a Muggle holiday about a religion we do not believe in."

"But that is just a holiday," Alice began to protest, yet her husband surprisingly cut her off.

"No, Yule is when we thank Mother Magic for granting us the gift of magic, it is not a meaningless holiday; it is a celebration."

"But we inherit magic, it isn't granted to us by this _Mother_."

"Ah," Samael said, "I can explain this, when we say 'Mother' we are not referring to a higher all-omniscient, all-omnipotent being, like Muggles do when they speak of 'God', but we are referring to the nature of Magic itself, it is sentient, take Hogwarts for example."

Alice was still looking decidedly unhappy, but Samael was glad to notice that she had accepted his reasoning. "I did not intend to reveal my horrendous past to yourself on our first meeting, however it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, I am afraid that I must take my leave, as I do have a meeting with Draco at Fortescue's."

"Malfoy?" Frank questioned, suspicion once again lighting his eyes.

"Yes, and I mean no offence Lord Longbottom but could you please cease your prejudices. I can assure you that Lord and Lady Malfoy, Severus Snape, and my parents do not carry the Dark Mark. Just because they did not actively fight against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, does not mean that they supported him. We are no longer at war, Auror, so could you please stop acting as if we are."

"You must excuse my husband, Samael dear," Alice said, smiling sweetly at him once more. "It's his job to be suspicious." She nudged him sharply, and Frank smiled sheepishly at the child as an apology.

"So yes, I must bid my adieu. Oh, and I am terribly sorry, but I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself, I hope that you can forgive this remiss of mine," Samael murmured, before turning apologetic emerald eyes upon them. "I am Samael Lestrange, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Lestrange, and to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black."

"You're a Lestrange? I didn't know that they had a son," Alice murmured, casting her husband a significant look, which Samael didn't fail to notice.

"Yes, well think upon what I have just said," he answered, "These prejudices need to end." He bowed once more to the Longbottom family, before stalking off in the opposite direction, a large smirk on his face as he heard the heated discussion beginning behind him.

A pair of silver eyes caught his, and his smirk only grew larger. "Was all that actually necessary?" Draco questioned, shaking his head at the boy who did not look ashamed at his actions.

"Two less influential and trusted people at the Ministry doubting Severus, your parents, and mine? Yes, I do count that as necessary," came Samael's simple reply.

"That sounds fair," the blonde reasoned, whilst holding open the door to Fortesuce's. "And if this plan of yours does in fact play out in our favour, then I will owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emerald eyes locked onto their silver counterparts. "Nonsense," Samael murmured quietly, "We are friends, I am your person, and I do whatever I can for my person."

The blonde refused to answer raven-haired child, but instead led him towards an empty table and motioned him to sit. "The chocolate-chip looks good," he softly said, after scanning the menu.

Samael scrunched his nose up in distaste. "I prefer vanilla, the rest are too sweet."

"Very well then, one chocolate-chip and one vanilla," Draco stated, placing the menu back upon the table. The blonde turned to leave, but hesitated. "Just so you know Samael, I am your person too," he whispered before quickly turning away.

Samael only chuckled at the flushed blonde's back, whilst leaning further back in his seat, so as to keep the Malfoy in his eyesight. "I know."

* * *

><p>14th June 1992<p>

They had just finished evening supper when the call came, and almost immediately an insane smile spread itself across Bellatrix's face, whilst a delighted cackle escaped her throat. Nearly two months had passed and the Dark Lord still had not called for his most dedicated followers. Bellatrix had been steadily growing more impatient with each passing week, so much in fact, that when Rodolphus and Rabastan felt the tingling sensation in their arm, growing into a more persistent burn, they could not help but feel relief wash through their body.

And as the three eldest Lestranges grasped their left arms, Samael raised a hand to soothe the angry, red scar which was throbbing persistently on his forehead. "He calls," Rabastan managed to say, between breaths of pain and happiness.

"Samael," Rodolphus called to his son; and green orbs turned to the eldest Lestrange, watching as he gripped his left arm tighter to himself, "Oh Merlin," he murmured, and it was obvious to all that the Dark Lord was growing agitated. "We need to leave, I'm sure that Narcissa will not mind you staying."

Samael nodded at the man, whilst rising from his chair. "Of course Father, please give my regards to my brother." Rodolphus quickly agreed, but did not rise until Samael had flooed out of the manor. "Bella, Rab," he called to his laughing wife, and moaning brother. "We leave."

Rodolphus silently walked towards the Manor's apparition point, with a still quietly moaning Rabastan, and giddy Bellatrix following. He swiftly placed either hand onto his companions' arms, before disapparating away into the Manor that none of them had been able to access for over a decade.

Immediately, a delighted grin spread itself across Rodolphus face as he took in the familiar walls of his second-home. The marble floor was as clean as the last time he had visited, as were the veneer hand-rails of the grand staircase aside him.

With no sound, the tall oak doors at the end of the hall swept aside, the Manor responding to the Dark Lord's wishes. With a small smile to his wife, Rodolphus led Bellatrix and Rabastan through the doors, and into the room beyond, where Severus and Lucius were staring at them impatiently.

"Ah, I am glad that you three could join us," a silky voice called from the shadows, startling the three Lestranges, who spun around to find their Lord still in the form of Quirrel. "I hope that Samael is well?"

"Of course, My Lord, he's currently with Narcissa and Draco," Bellatrix answered, awe lining her voice, as she practically drank in the face of her Lord.

"I see," he murmured, whilst swiftly moving towards the head of the room. The Lestranges hurried after the Dark Lord, and took a seat aside their fellow Inner-Circle Death Eaters. "As you can see, I am still habituating Quirrinus' body," he needlessly said, waving a hand down his body "And it is terribly _restricting_." A quiet hiss of annoyance echoed throughout the room. "Quirrinus' magical reserves are much smaller than my own, so I have been forced to bind a portion of my magic into one of my personal objects," he admitted quietly, whilst slowly taking a seat.

Stricken looks crossed the faces at the table, but it was Lucius who spoke first. "How can we be of assistance?" his smooth cultured voice asking the question on all of their minds.

The Dark Lord grimaced at the question, "I am in need of rituals, ones that require the use of, _horcruxes_." A small gasp escaped Severus' mouth at the Dark Lord's words, yet a look of horrified understanding settled upon his face after a moment of thought.

Lucius merely frowned at the table, "I'm sorry, but I am not aware of what a… horcrux, is." The Lestranges nodded at Lucius, they also unacquainted with the term, the Dark Lord merely sighed at them.

"A horcrux is an object which contains a portion of a person's soul," he stated, shadows passing over his face at the looks of shock on his inner-circle's faces.

After a pregnant pause, Bellatrix spoke. "So, that's how you survived. We knew that you hadn't died because your magic was still thrumming through our marks, but we had no idea of how you achieved it." she stated quietly. "This makes sense though."

Silence reigned once again in the room, before: "I did not wish to split my soul," Voldemort admitted to them, "It disfigures it, and leaves it open to insanity, but I could not chance my death before the Cause had been fulfilled. It was a necessary evil."

When it became clear none of the others were going to speak, Severus cleared his throat. "I understand milord," he murmured quietly, with a small smile. "You did it for necessities sake, at your own personal sacrifice." The Dark Lord offered a curt nod at this. "However, the only other person who I know of, who has performed such a ritual is Raiph Black, the twenty-sixth Slytherin Lord."

Voldemort nodded his agreement, "Yes, yes, that is where I obtained the idea from. I experimented at Hogwarts, to see if it was possible without splitting my soul, by siphoning my magic into an object, however all that managed to create was an imprint of myself." Siphoning magic? The questioning, and awed looks upon his followers' faces told the Dark Lord how amazed they all were.

"Is that," Rabastan paused for a fraction of a second, his hazel eyes round in shock, "Even possible?

Bellatrix glared at her brother-in-law, "Of course it's possible!" she snapped, "This is Our Lord we're talking about, and obviously he has succeeded since he is standing before us!"

"I can see that Bella!" he returned, rising to his feet whilst pointing a shaking finger at the woman. Rodolphus hid his head in his hands, he just knew that Rabastan would rise to the occasion, honestly, it was a wonder how he survived ten years with the two of them. "I am no imbecile, but I have never heard of such a thing, forgive me for being surprised!"

Bellatrix stood as well, a simpering smile stretching her face into the facsimile of sweet expression. "You are forgiven dear-heart, after all, one cannot expect one such as yourself who spends more time looking for his next bed-warmer than improving the Lestrange name to be interested in preparing themselves for an array of situations."

Mottled red washed across the youngest Lestrange's face. "One such as myself!" he thundered, "How dare you insinuate that I am a disgrace to my heritage!"

"I don't need to insinuate something if it is a fact!" She quickly retorted, and Rodolphus moaned in displeasure. "All you do is bed women…and men, you bed anything with a pulse! That is no behaviour for one with your social standing!"

"Bella! That is _enough_!" Rodolophus' words were sharp, and the woman seemed to slump into her seat as if she was a puppet whose strings had been cut, and thankfully, Rabstan seemed to quieten also. Yet, they soon realised that the room was too quiet, and turned to see the other three wizards staring at them.

"That is one thing that I have not missed whilst away," the comment was clearly layered with anger, and the three Lestranges physically paled at the frigid eyes which were narrowed upon them. "Now, let us move onto the matter at hand – the ritual."

"My Lord," Bellatrix called in a slightly subdued voice whilst fidgeting lightly in her seat. "I will look in the Black Library, the books there have been articulating for centuries, and many of them are writings by the Black family."

Impassive eyes watched her, before Voldemort inclined his head at her. "Thank you Bellatrix."

"Anything for you, milord!"

* * *

><p>1st September 1992<p>

"Stay close to Samael and I," the blonde Malfoy instructed to a smaller boy who was walking between the Malfoy heir and the Lestrange heir. The new boy had his amber eyes wide open in excitement and curiosity as he took in all the sights and smells around him. "You never know who is around the corner."

The child opened his mouth to protest, after all, the people hidden around the corner could be _terribly _interesting. "But I want to meet them! They know things about Hogwarts!"

"_We _know things about Hogwarts, everything in fact, even the things that Hogwarts: A History does not tell you!" the blonde insisted, nodding his head in a very serious fashion at the look of wonder on the boy's face.

"Really?" he breathed, following the blonde's motion to board the train after Samael. As soon as he was on the train however, he spun around to face Draco. "Really?"

"Yes, now find an empty compartment Andras," the Malfoy murmured, before sneering at a gaggle of Hufflepuff boys who were staring at them from their compartment.

"The Zabini boy is in this one," Andras called, whilst beaming at the wary Italian. "Oh, and so is that Parkinson girl. Are we going to sit with them Draco?" The blonde nodded, and (much to Draco's horror) Andras _skipped _into the compartment, and took his seat opposite a rather awkward Pansy Parkinson. "Hello! I'm Andras, it's a pleasure to meet you!" he said eagerly to the two second-year Slytherins, who shared a wary look.

Parkinson hesitantly offered her hand to the excited boy, which only caused his smile to grow even larger, as he placed a chaste kiss to it. "Is he related to you, Lestrange?" she asked, and at her words, Zabini quickly rose his hand to his neck.

"No," was Samael's only verbal response, as he smirked at his fellow House-mates who were obviously remembering their own initial meeting with him.

"Andras is of no relation to either Samael or I," Draco answered, seeing that Samael wasn't going to offer any other information, as he had retrieved a book from Merlin knows where. "However, we are the only people his age that he has met." _'Ah, I knew that would interest them,'_ the blonde thought, noting the identical expressions of confusion on the Slyherins' faces. "Andras was tutored at home," Draco explained, and Andras nodded eagerly.

"Yes, my Dad taught me Defence, Transfiguration and History, whilst my Father taught me Offensive, Potions and Charms," he stated proudly at the wide education that he had received.

"The Male Pregnancy Potion?" Zabini questioned, a look of pure interest on his face. "My Uncle was talking about it, but I was not aware that the results were successful."

Andras nodded once more at the boy, suddenly very serious. "Yes, my parents were the first participants of Professor Snape's trial, and any potion of his are always successful, exceptional even!" the first-year exclaimed.

Samael chuckled lowly at the Snape, causing the other Snake's to look at him. Samael merely raised an eyebrow at them. "I am merely admiring Andras' loyalty to Severus Snape, there is nothing to worry about."

They looked unconvinced, but did not comment; suddenly Andras stood. "If you will excuse me, I am going to the wash-room," Andras announced, a bright glint in his eyes as he strode from the compartment.

Draco watched him go with a confused look on his face. _'What? Why is Samael so formal all of a sudden?'_

"You do realise that Andras has just left in order to discover other first-years?"Samael questioned lightly, and his lips twisted into a small smile. _'That sneaky little Snape!'_ "If he does not return in the next half-hour, however, we will search for him," the Lestrange assured.

Parkinson and Zabini shared a look. "What House do you think Andras will be in?" Zabini enquired.

"Slytherin," Draco said immediately, yet the small shake of Samael's head had him doubting. "What?"

"His father may be have been a Slytherin, Draco, but what you seem to forget is that his dad was a Gryffindor," Samael stated, smirking at the wide frightened gaze of his friend. "Not that I think Andras is a Gryffindor of course, but we all contain elements of each house. We, for example, are not exclusively ambitious and cunning, loyalty is a Hufflepuff quality, yet I would gladly attack any fool willing to harm my family. Just as knowledge is a Ravenclaw quality, yet that does not stop any one of them from making brash decision."

"So what house do you think he will be in then?" the blonde retorted, smirking at the unimpressed eyes settling upon him

Slowly, Samael closed the book he had been attempting to read again. "I do not know, and I do not care to guess. What shall be shall be."

"Even if he lands himself in Hufflepuff?"

"There is no reason why Hufflepuffs should not be respected, but honestly Draco, Andras will not end up in Hufflepuff. As loyal and as kind as they are, Andras would undoubtedly scare them away, especially when they learn of who his father is."

Zabini and Parkinson looked _very _interested at that statement, but they wisely enough did not comment upon it, _'Hmm, perhaps they are going to use their cunning, and sleuth the answer; though it will not be needed once Andras enters the sorting.'_

"He's been gone an awfully long time, Samael," returned the blonde, and the other two Slytherins were amazed to see almighty Lestrange's sigh.

"He has been gone only a short while, Draco, five minutes at the most. Now do stop mothering him, Andras is very capable of taking care of himself, or did you forget how able he is with both wand and fist?"

Emeralds met silver, and a down-turn of full lips met the quiver of thinner ones. "No," came the reluctant answer of the Malfoy heir.

"So you have no desire to reacquaint yourself with Andras' anger?" and this time Samael's query was layered with jest.

"No."

Samael sighed again, abruptly standing to his feet. "But you still wish to find him, do you not?" his eyes piercing into Draco's, who grinned at the Lestrange before also standing.

"Of course," the reply was simple, "Now lead on, mon frère." The blonde placed a light hand upon the smaller boy's shoulder, and Samael led the both of them from the compartment, throwing an airy 'adieu' at the two Snakes behind him.

"Now where do you believe Andras will be hiding?" the Lestrange murmured softly, and Samael sighed at the lost look on Draco's face. _'Gosh, Samael sighed _again_,' _"Honestly Dragon? This was _your _idea." _'I know that Samael, but how on Earth should how should I know?'_ Samael's emerald eyes were still looking at Draco, and the blonde realised that he had yet to answer.

'_Merlin..How about…' _"This way," the blonde decided, before walking towards the next carriage. "This is exclusively Slytherin territory, and I doubt that Andras would talk to older students just yet." Samael merely nodded his head at the sound reasoning of the blonde, and silently stalked after the proud boy who was regarding each occupant of every compartment he came across with disdain, until…

"Andras!" Draco fumed, easily throwing open the compartment door. The boy in question raised confused amber eyes at the blonde, and his companion's wide brown eyes stared at the Malfoy in shock and fear. "Why are you hanging around with _this _riff-raff, don't you know that some families are better than others?"

"_Draco!_ Don't be so rude," Andras declared, waving his arms around in excitement, making the red-haired girl he was sitting with duck. "Oh sorry." Draco only frowned at the action. _'We do not apologise to those beneath us.'_

"Andras, do you not remember that this - this _girl's _family has a blood feud with mine? Or that herfather attacked Father only last week!" his voice was full of irritation and hatred, as he glared at the cowering shame-faced girl in the corner.

"I remember!" Andras replied hotly "But Ginny wasn't the one who attacked your great-great granddad's fiancé,that was her great-great granddad! And she didn't attack Uncle Lucius either, it was her father! _And _she is nothing like her brother, she's nice!"

"And why," Samael interrupted, his cold emerald eyes focusing upon Andras. "Are you aware of what Ronald Weasley is like?" _'Exactly what I would like to know also.'_

Immediately, Andras' anger dissipated to be replaced with embarrassment. "Well, I may have tripped whilst walking down the gangway, and then I may have heard that Weasley boy saying rude things about my father, and then I may have accidentally hexed him into having black hair and eyes, and then Ginny here may have hexed her brother into professing his love for Professor Snape and wishing that he was a Slytherin.'

'_I don't believe it.' _Draco was shocked to say the least, as he gazed at the youngest Weasley with a strange emotion. _'She looks quite unabashed about the matter, hmph… I'm sure that Samael would hate for me to lose such a potential ally in the Lions Den.' _ So with reluctance, the blonde grit his teeth, straightened his back, lowered his shoulders, and said two words to the Weasley girl which would set the scene for their next year at Hogwarts.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for such a long wait, but my laptop had a major meltdown (again)! Gosh, I'm so sorry! **

**So here's the prelude to their second year at Hogwarts, and from my very jumbled plan, it looks like they are going to have an interesting year!**

**A massive thank you to my beta: Zoey Rowan, for being a wonderful well...beta! Thanks and ta-ta! :)**


	18. Revelations of the Shocking Kind

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p>Revelations of the Shocking Kind<p>

_With down cast eyes;_

_There's more to living than being alive._

_Alexthymia - Anberlin_

* * *

><p>The dark night sky was scattered with deep storm clouds, allowing the horrendous downpour of rain to smash against the enchanted ceiling. Looking up, Minerva McGonagall sighed softly to herself, thirty-three students out of the accepted thirty-nine had already been sorted, and she (like the rest of the students) were quickly becoming agitated with the wait.<p>

"Hufflepuff!" the sorting hat declared about a small, blonde girl. _'Thirty-four now, only five more to go.'_

So with an inaudible sigh, McGonagall turned to the next student upon the scroll of parchment, and paused before reading it again. Quickly, her wide hazel eyes glanced to the resident Potions Master, who was smirking like the cat who had gotten the cream, and then her eyes darted to the gaggle of first-years who were staring at her in either worry or interest.

Clearing her throat, she stole another quick glance at Severus before announcing. "Snape, Andras!" And the silence was understandable in her opinion, but still she watched with hidden curiosity as a relatively tall boy with hair as dark as his father's detached himself from his peers and gracefully walked towards her, before sitting demurely upon the stool. Shaking her head from her daze, she placed the hat upon the child's head, and it was only a moment before 'RAVENCLAW!' was bellowed from the rim of the battered hat's mouth.

Almost immediately, the Ravenclaw house clapped loudly, welcoming their newest Eagle with vigour, and Minerva could only smile as the young boy sat beside a Miss Lovegood and easily engaged her in conversation. _'Honestly,'_ she thought with exasperation. _'It was about time he settled down, but he could have informed us!'_

The next four students' sortings moved by swiftly, (with the youngest Weasley unsurprisingly being sorted into the Lion's Den), and with relief Minerva hastily made her way towards her seat next to Severus. The Potions Master was no longer smirking, but Minerva could definitely see the satisfied glint in his onyx eyes as he stared at her over the rim of his goblet.

"I never knew that you had a son," her Scottish brogue thick as she questioned the man before her.

"No?" and an eyebrow rose in accordance with his words, "How remiss of me, but if you are wondering, I do not have any other children hidden away."

"Hmph," _'Damn him, always knowing what I'm thinking!' _"So how about his mother? Is she still with you?" and she almost had to ask, 'and why are your eyes glittering so much?' but had the restraint not to.

"Mother? Ah no, I was never with a woman to begin with." Minerva's eyebrows shot into her hairline at this, _'Really?' _"If you recall, I created two potions in my youth, one being an improvement on the Wolfsbane and the other being-"

"Male Fertility Potion, yes I do remember now." The stern witch murmured, as she remembered the young Severus Snape's accolade in the Prophet. _'Youngest Potions Master to __date.'_

"You did not honestly think that I created that out of the goodness of my heart, did you?" he drawled, before taking another steady sip at his goblet. "No, my partner wished for a child, and I wished to see him happy."

"Well, that is lovely to hear Severus. I'm glad to see you so happy."

"Yes, I agree with Minerva, my dear boy. Surely, it's tough on dear Andras though, not seeing you most days?" Dumbledore asked, after pulling away from his conversation with Lilly Potter.

"Not at all. Andras is perfectly fine, considering that I managed to see him at least once, if not twice a day." Minerva chuckled merrily, seeing the normally dour man attempt to withhold a sneer. "There is no rule stating that a Professor can live outside of Hogwarts, and once my rounds have concluded, I happily leave the castle to see my son and partner."

"But what if your Slyherins needed you and you were not in your rooms?" the Headmaster questioned, his blue eyes shining with disappointment, and Minerva could see how Severus' grip tightened upon his goblet.

"My Slytherins are perfectly capable of looking after themselves. That is not say that I am no way accommodating of them. It is the opposite in fact, since they know that I am the only member of staff that they can fully trust to rely upon considering the horrendous amounts of prejudice held against them." the man's voice tight with concealed anger.

Several of the staff stiffened at his words, and glared at the man. "If you must know, I have a proximity ward on my door, and I will come and see them when I am alerted. They are all aware however, that there is an enchanted piece of parchment in the common room if they must contact me. Whether that be to discuss school-work, the request of potions, or their home-life, they know that they can speak to me."

"Home lives, why would they need to talk about that?" Lily questioned rudely, "They are all pampered purebloods!" _'Now really!' _Minerva thought, noticing how Severus seemed to pale at the woman's words, and how his angered eyes seemed to burn.

"That is not true," and shivers ran down Minerva's spine at the cold tone he was using. "The Snake Pit is not a pureblood haven, since over half of the students are half-bloods and at least 10% of them are muggleborn, and believe it or not, not all of them come from the most ideal backgrounds. Whether that be an odd insult, a flying fist, or no food, I have never come across one year where I have at least one student coming to Hogwarts either battered black and blue, unstable or bone thin!"

'_Abuse? Why would anyone abuse their children?' _the Scottish witch thought, regarding the Potions Master with incredulity.

"Now I will help them however I can, and use my contacts to establish a new home for them, but many in the Ministry are unwilling to help those from Muggle backgrounds because they view Muggles as the saints on this world. And I can speak from personal experience that Muggles are not always the nicest." At this Severus snorted, an action Minerva had never seen the composed man ever do. And that chill down her spine only intensified, as she heard the man's admissions.

"Now now, Severus," Albus intervened, his blue eyes stern behind his glasses. "Muggles are not bad, just because they don't have magic-"

"Muggles are not saints, Albus! They abuse their children, murder their wives, and then they kill themselves! My Snake Pit is the only place these students feel safe, because they know that they will not receive help from the Hogwarts staff, not even the school-nurse! Until they reach the Pit, they have to nurse their own wounds, learn healing spells, learn how to staunch blood which is bleeding from their backs, learn how to steal food, learn how to be submissive, and they damn well have to learn that they cannot trust anyone in authority, because they damn well won't help them!" the man's breathing was harsh now, as he glared beetle-black eyes at those surrounding him.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to greet my Slytherins, because it's pretty clear to me that both Andrew and Abigail Porter are about to pass out from the loss of blood," he said coldly, before standing and swiftly moved towards the Slytherin table, where he gave a too-small, too-pale brunette girl and boy a potion phial. And Minerva tried not to flinch when the girl _'Abigail,' _she amended, shook at the man's approach, and how the boy _'Andrew,'_ raised his arms when Severus moved. _'My God, what have we done?'_

"Poppy!" Minerva's Scottish brogue was thick with anger. "Have you denied the Slytherins treatment? Or not told either Albus or myself of previous abuse?" and Minerva's heart clenched when the feared school-nurse glanced away in shame. _'Oh, Gods.'_

"I have never denied any student treatment," she began, but Minerva glared at her even more ferociously. "I may have overlooked their lack of weight, or the bruises and scars, but I have never denied them treatment! I may have not let them rest as long as the others, but that's because they don't deserve it after they start the fights!"

Minerva's blood ran cold at the nurse's words, _'Even I know, that it's my Lions who normally instigate the brawls, but to not report such wounds…'_ her thoughts trailed off when she remembered what Severus said.

"What did Severus mean when he said that he spoke from personal experience?" she asked, frightened for the answer as she saw the saddened look pass over Albus' face.

"I can answer that Minerva," his voice aged, "When I hired Severus, I learnt that he was abused as a child." Gasps of shock rang across the staff table, apart from Lily, who just sat there with a bored look on her face. "His father was an alcoholic, and hated the fact that his wife and son were magical. So his father, would beat Severus until unconsciousness-"

"Why didn't his mother stop him? She was a witch!" Sinistra asked appalled.

"She was in love with Tobias," was Albus' simple reply, "But I'm afraid that her feelings were not reciprocated, when Severus was sixteen, his father killed Eileen and then he killed himself."

'_My Gods,' _a sinking feeling fluttered in her stomach, and bile rose up her throat. "And the Marauders bullied him, I remember," she murmured, and shame filled her every pore as she remembered those days. "James, Sirius, you bullied him and I turned a blind eye. But he ended up in the hospital wing more often than not, so how come _you_ never saw the signs of abuse, Poppy? Or did you just forget to mention it? The nurse balked at the stares in her direction, and sunk into her chair.

"I'm afraid that Hogwarts can no longer keep you in her employ," Minerva's grave voice stated, "You are hereby suspended until an official enquiry is completed." Her voice spoke with finality, and the witch disliked the rather angry glint in Albus' eye as he looked at her. _'What are you up to Albus?'_

* * *

><p>"Professor Snape," fifth-year Slytherin called to his Head of House in the corridor, "The Snake Pit have reached a decision." A think black eyebrow rose in enquiry at the boy, and at Samael and Draco walking towards him, clearly having orchestrated the entire meeting.<p>

"Yes Warwick, and what may that be?"

"We have decided that Andras Snape, shall be considered a honorary Slytherin," he declared, quickly continuing after seeing that the Potions Master was about to protest, "This has nothing to do with your relation to him, but has everything to do with the incident involved on the train yesterday afternoon."

The Potions Master kept a neutral face, but the narrowing of his onyx eyes were furious and focused upon the fifth year. "And what pray tell occurred on the train yesterday?" he drawled, making it perfectly clear that the answer better be one of his liking.

Warwick flinched before straightening, "Both he and Weasley girl hexed the youngest Weasley boy, when he said some rather disparaging marks about yourself, and then when Weasley tried to attack your son when his back was turned, Andras cast _expelliarmus _and caught his wand. It was rather impressive I must admit, considering that your son is only a first year. And by Gods, the glare he fixed on Weasley, it was like looking at you sir. Mighty impressive," he breathed out, cautiously peeking at the tall man who was standing stiff.

Slowly, a rather dangerous, predatory smirk stretched the professor's face, "Thank you for the information, Warwick, I will ensure that Andras knows of the privilege he has been granted by the Snake Pit," he intoned lowly, inclining his head at the fifth-year boy, who only nodded in acknowledgement before glancing at the two second-years behind him, and walking away.

"And why could you not inform me of this in person?" Severus asked dryly to the Malfoy and Lestrange, seeing their smirking faces.

"We were just seeing how far our influence had spread," Draco easily answered, and Samael nodded in agreement whilst walking so that they fell in step with the professor. "Last year, both Samael and I had first, second and third years under our influence, with promising small things, food, help, company, etcetera. But now, Warick there _offered _to tell you, he approached _us _and he wanted nothing in return, it was rather _strange _actually."

"And rather suspicious as well," Samael added shrewdly,

The blonde nodded, before glancing at exactly Severus was leading them. "Severus, why are you entering the Great Hall with us? Don't you normally use the teacher's entrance?" he questioned, sneering as the students around them stopped and stared.

Severus only sneered, his eyes flashing with anger, as he followed the two Slytherins into the hall. "I'm proving a point to those imbeciles who call themselves professors, who got on their high horse when they learned of Andras, and then attempted to accuse _me _of not looking after _my _Slytherins," he spat out, causing most of the Slytherins who heard to glare at the Head Table.

Emerald eyes narrowed at Severus' words, and glared at the twinkling blue eyes of the Headmaster, before lingering over the nonchalant gaze of the Potters and Black, sneering as they shifted under his stare. "Cowards," he murmured, before turning to man beside him. "Ignore them, Severus," he said, smiling a smile which Andras would be proud of, and both Severus and Draco groaned at the sight, that cunning smile of Samael's usually didn't bode well.

Most of the students had entered the hall by now, before freezing at the sight of their feared Potions Master glowering whilst standing aside the Slytherin table and practically hissing at his Snakes. Only a soft chatter could be heard in the hall, as most were staring at the sight before them with wonder, and due to the quiet they could vaguely pick out the words being flung out from the man's mouth during his tirade. _Potions, medical spells, new homes._ Just what was Professor Snape speaking of?

And those that were watching the Lestrange, saw that _burning _anger in his emerald eyes ebb into cold, smouldering flames that didn't promise anything good. And the hall's inhabitants' eyes were glued upon the sight of the raven-haired Snake bow a deep bow to his seated house-mates, and watched his pale hand flex upon his cane to steady himself, before fluidly rising.

Excited chatter from the Eagles, told everyone that what they were about to witness was pure political play, performed by one of the most influential snakes in the Snake Pit. And armed with this information, the hall was eagerly watching the interaction.

"I Samael Cygnus Lestrange, put forward the request for Severus Tobias Snape, to be given a debt of gratitude," Samael declared loudly, ignoring the gasps which escaped the majority of the snakes' mouths. "I bring these debts forward for the tireless work Severus Snape has put into the Snake pit, to ensure that its students are safe from the verbal, mental and physical abuse they are subjected to by their families. I offer this debt due to the potions he gives our Snakes to stop the bleeding, and fix the broken bones, the spells to heal the scars, the counselling to heal the mental scars and the work he does to give our snakes a new home. What decision does the Snake Pit reach?"

Draco immediately stood, "I concur!" his voice clear and loud; his silver gaze sweeping over the snakes. Parkinson and Zabini quickly joined them, followed by other second-years, third-years and fourth-years. The first-years looked around curiously from their seats, but Andrew and Abigail Porter stood and offered their agreement, and within a few moments, the entire Snake Pit had stood, ignoring the gazes of the other houses.

"The decision is unanimous!" Samael called, whilst turning to face the Potions Master; smirking at the chaos he was about to cause. "We Snakes, have declared Severus Tobias Snape the protector of the Snake House, and in return he shall be granted a boon from Hogwarts herself for his selfless actions!"

Immediately the uproars began, but it went unnoticed by Severus Snape and his Snakes, because bright strands of vibrant multi-coloured magic floated from the very stone walls themselves, and rushed straight into the stunned Potions Master who was staring with wide eyes at the smug child beside him. Screams of denial and outrage rung throughout the hall, and the furious forms of Potter and Black rose to their feet, their bellows of abuse the loudest and clearest in the room.

"Silence!" the Headmaster's voice washed over the entire hall. "This is certainly an unexpected revelation, however I am happy to see that one of our professors is so loved by his students." his genial smile fooling all but those who knew of his deceptions, "Now, hurry up and eat your breakfast, it's the most important meal of the day, did you know?" And without further ado the man _plonked _himself in his seat, and made a great show of reaching for a slice of toast, whilst eyeing his professors, who reluctantly took their seats yet still glared at the Potions Master.

The man in question quickly shook the shock from himself, and cast his softening gaze on the Lestrange. "Thank you," the murmur was barely heard, but Samael nodded solemnly, and gave the man a short bow. Severus smiled at the boy, and offered him a bow in return, before facing his snakes. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, am humbled with the gift you have bestowed upon me; thank you for this honour."

Silence. Shocked silence. Severus Snape had thoroughly shocked every person in that hall in the span of twenty-four hours. Firstly, his secret son, secondly, his supposed nurturing nature to his snakes, and finally, his spoken words of _thanks_. None of them could truly say that they knew the snarky bat of dungeons, not after all of these revelations.

"You're determined to get everyone to trust Sev, aren't you?" Draco's amused whisper tickled Samael's ear, and the Lestrange could only smirk widely at the words. "And once he's trusted by them," the blonde continued, with an answering smirk. "He can be a well placed mole for your brother."

Samael did not answer, only inclined his head at the boy, and reached for an apple. _'My, my, Dragon, you are learning.'_

* * *

><p>A week had passed since their second-year had began, rumours about Severus' newly acquired magic from Hogwarts were circling around the school faster than the Nimbus 2001; <em>apparently <em>Severus now had the power to re-sort students, become Headmaster, _and _appoint the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The hilarity of the rumours, were almost as amusing as the horrified face Severus made at these suggestions.

_'But,'_ Draco thought, _I have_ _digressed,' _The Malfoy was currently criticising their current Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and he left much desired. Gilderoy Lockhart was a fake, the sight of his terribly styled hair was enough to turn Draco's stomach, but having to study his supposed 'escapades' was just too much. Which is why, the blonde was extremely grateful for the fact that today's scheduled lesson had been changed to duelling, and he could at least gain solace from the fact that at least Severus would be there.

Samael was walking beside him, but the boy was oddly silent, not that Samael was usually taciturn, but he seemed oddly _perturbed_ today, as if he was contemplating something horrific. _'By Gods, Draco, he lived with those muggles for a decade, and a year spent with us could hardly have let him forget!' _he harshly reprimanded himself, casting a glance at his friend who was giving the stone wall an odd look.

_'It could have something to do with that letter he received at breakfast...' _ the thought hung tantalisingly in the back of his mind, tempting him to ask, before he shook himself out of that mode of thinking, if Samael thought he had to know then he would have told him, he was sure of it.

The excited murmurs could be heard before they rounded the corner, as the gaggles of chattering students were hurriedly pouring into their Defence classroom. The two Slytherins easily meandered through the throngs of students until they reached the platform which had replaced the usual seats.

Lockhart was happily informing Faye Dunbar and Padma Patil of the time he had supposedly defeated a vampire by using his smile alone, and Draco snorted at the look of abhorrence Severus was clearly directing towards the outlandish man he was stood beside.

"I do believe that Severus is dearly wishing me Hell currently," Samael noted with amusement, and Draco could only nod at his friend, who had obviously shaken himself from his stupor.

"Quite," and Draco's voice could only match Samael's in its amusement, because Severus was now hissing at the Defence Professor. "If you hadn't have elevated his status amongst the staff, then Lockhart wouldn't have even dreamed of choosing him for this."

The smirk on Samael's face was unrepentant, and he smug expression had clearly been noticed by Severus as the Potions Master was now glaring at the Lestrange instead of his flamboyant colleague.

"Hello!" Lockhart's voice caught the class' attention, and he strode across the platform to face everyone in the eye. "Today, as I'm sure you're aware, we will be learning the basics to duelling, and Sever- I mean Professor Snape here has gratefully accepted my offer to assist! Come here Professor," Lockhart beckoned the glowering man, who stalked towards the Defence professor with a snarl.

Gilderoy clapped his hands in delight at Severus' acquiescence, and eagerly wrapped his arm around the man's shoulders. "_We _are the best duellists at Hogwarts, and only the best can be given to our students!" A wink and a playful smile. "So, we'll give you a demonstration, and you'll all get the chance to do so too!"

He released his grip on Severus, but motioned for him to turn and face him. "First we bow," Lockhart instructed, before performing an overly ostentatious bow, _'Oh Circe...'. _Severus performed a curt one in return. "Then walk ten steps away from each other," They both complied, "And begin, the person who loses their wand first loses! Stupefy!" Lockhart called whilst twirling around, causing his spell to miss Severus with a wide berth.

"Expelliarmus!" the Potions Master shouted, and his spell rang true. Lockhart was flung to the furthest edge of the platform, and his wand flew into Severus' open hand._'Oh Merlin, I never imagined Lockhart was _that _bad!' _

Samael began clapping, which spurred the other students into doing also. Stumbling to his feet, a rather embarrassed Lockhart began clapping at Severus, and shook his hand in a friendly manner. "Well, now that we've demonstrated how to successfully perform a duel, how about some volunteers?"

Nervous titters sounded, with some extremely shy students ducking their heads away from the two professors. _'Oh bullocks, I just know Severus will pick me, since wouldn't want to draw too much attention to Samael,' _Draco bemoaned in his head, and sure enough after a moment's silence, Severus' acerbic drawl echoed across the room.

"If I would Professor, may I suggest one of my Snakes?" his silky voice promising Hell to whomever he was sentencing this fate to.

"Not at all, not at all!" a grinning Lockhart replied.

"Wonderful," a small _threatening _smile stretched his face, "Draco if you would?" _'Damn you Severus,' _he internally swore, but outwardly a serene smile graced his features, and he easily made his way onto the platform.

"Brilliant, now how about-" Lockhart paused for dramatic effect, tilting his head to the ceiling as if lost in thought. "Mr Potter, I know that you have been rather _open _about your opinion of my teaching methods,"

Draco snorted internally, and catching Samael's laughing emerald eyes with his, he rose an eyebrow in thoughtfulness at the Lestrange. _'Who knew he was so astute?' _The Lestrange seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and smirked at the blonde.

"Now now," Lockhart ushered the class into silence, "Draco, Robert," a tight smile flashed across his face; Draco's eyebrows were practically in his hairline. "Face one another and bow, just like Professor Snape and I," _'Merlin, he cannot even bow properly,'_ as Robert jerkily tilted his body with a hateful glare.

He couldn't help it, "Scared, Potter?" his sneered words accompanied by his custom smirk aas hazel eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in anger.

The boy looked to reply, but Lockhart interrupted. "And now, walk ten steps away," They complied.

"Petrifiucs Totallus!" the Potter's spell rushed towards Draco's turned back, but he swiftly ducked and spun. _'Playing dirty are we Potter?' _"Stupefy!" Robert cried out, but the spell didn't even leave his wand.

"That's a third year spell Potter, I doubt _you _could cast it, but I however mastered it last year," the blonde taunted, smirking as the red-head's face mottled puce with rage, and aimed and fired before looking. _'Ah, he's letting the rage affect his spellcasting, tut tut.' _The spell missed Draco by a good couple of feet.

"Stop being a coward, Malfoy, and _fight back_!" the furious Potter screamed, and Draco's smirk only grew.

"As you wish, Potter. _Serpentsortia_!" the snake came twisting from his wand, and landed upon the platform with a soft 'thump' before hissing irately at the red-head. Shocked at the conjured animal, the Potter froze. _'Perfect.' _"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" he called in swift succession, easily catching the Gryffindor's wand as the boy hit the floor.

Silence met his victory, and silver eyes quickly took in the wary gaze of the students upon the hissing snake on the platform, well all bar one at least. Samael was staring at the slithering animal, his brows furrowed as a moue formed upon his face. _'Oh my, is he _talking _to the snake?' _the question flew through Draco's mind, as he saw Samael's lips twitch into strange shapes. _'My Gods, he is! He's a parseltongue!'_

Wide silver eyes locked onto equally wide emerald orbs when Samael caught him staring, and the Lestrange cocked his head to side in question. _'He'll speak with me out there?' _A nod, and a tight smile greeted the thought.

"Well done Mr Malfoy!" a clapping Lockhart declared, "How about a little tournament then? We'll have two more volunteers, the winner faces Mr Malfoy, and whoever wins gets thirty points for their house, now who wants to do it?"

Immediately, a red-faced Weasley threw his hand into the air, glaring daggers at an oblivious Draco who was still staring at Samael from across the room, and with some considerable thought, Granger raised her hand too.

Lockhart eagerly ushered Draco to where he and Severus stood, but Draco barely paid attention to Lochart's excited ramblings, as he could only anticipate for the end of the lesson so that he could speak to his elusive friend. The minutes seemed to trickle by at a torturous, and he could only he apathetically watch as Granger defeated Weasley with a bored expelliarmus.

_'Finally,' _Draco thought, stepping his way back onto the platform where Granger stood with a nervous yet challenging look on her face. "Let's get this over with, Granger, I have an important conversation to have," he murmured, ignoring the obvious curiosity on her face.

"I won't go easy on you, Malfoy," she retorted, before bowing.

"Do your worst, Granger, it's finally time to put you in place," he easily replied, sneering at her defiant gaze..

"What's that then? A _mudblood,_" she spat out over her shoulder, as she walked away. _'Moronic self-centred little girl,' _he thought, whilst spinning on the spot to dodge the spell flying from her wand. _'Petrifiucs totalus? Good choice, however...' _he drifted off, attempting to remember the jinx Severus had used on him when he was annoying the man a couple of years ago.

Granger fired off another spell whilst he was lost in thought, and he had to physically throw himself onto the floor to avoid _losing_, Malfoys _never _lose. _'Lang-Langcl-Langlock!' _"Langlock!" he cried; his eyes flashing with triumph as the Gryffindor clutched at her throat with shocked eyes. "Has the cat got your tongue, Granger?" he questioned, and his lips twitched with amusement as anger flooded across her face, "Expelliarmus!"

"Well done, Mr Malfoy! A wonderful feat to achieve, thirty points to Slytherin!" declared happily, whilst placing a heavy hand on Draco's shoulders. "Class dismissed!" Draco vaguely noticed Lockhart casting a _finite _at the voiceless Granger, as he hurriedly pushed through the crowd. He had a Lestrange to find.

* * *

><p>There was no use in attempting to break their unspoken agreement, Samael knew, since Draco would just find him in the end anyway. So, with that in mind, he was patiently waiting outside their classroom for the blonde to show.<p>

"Samael!" the familiar voice cried out, and the Lestrange absently noted that the two duels had left the Malfoy's hair in a rather tousled state, that was just begging for someone to smooth. As it were, Samael did not bely any of these thoughts, but instead merely rose an eyebrow at the flushed blonde. "Just what happened in there?"

"I thought it was rather obvious, Dragon, you won the Pit thirty points – well done," his voice innocent, but his eyes taunting the other into speaking. _He _certainly wouldn't give Draco any help.

"You know I'm not referring to that!" the blonde huffed, eyes narrowed in irritation. "I saw you speaking to that snake, Samael, why did you not tell me you were a parseltongue?"

"I never saw a reason to bring it into conversation," Samael replied simply, and his blasé attitude only seemed to annoy Draco further.

"No need, Samael! Don't you see how advantageous it would be in the Pit if they knew that you were a parseltongue?"

Samael frowned at the blonde. "It would not be advantageous at all, Dragon. They would begin to draw conclusions, and neither my brother nor myself wish for our relation to be announced, which it surely would should my ability be known!"

Draco looked genuinely stunned at the answer. "Yes, that may be true. But why did you not tell me? I am your friend, aren't I?" And it was the uncertainty in the blonde's face, which prevented Samael from glaring at the him.

"Of course you are my friend, Dragon, we have already established this fact. And liike I said, I did not mention my ability because I did not believe it mentionable," hearing the choked noise Draco made at this statement, Samael tilted his head to the side. "However, I _will _answer a question regarding my ability if you wish." And Samael could not deny, that the large smile on Draco's face made him feel a warmth in his stomach which he now knew as happiness.

"How did you discover that you were a parseltongue?"

A saddened look flashed across Samael's face at the question, and Draco's smile dulled in response. "I discovered my ability when I was seven. Petunia wished me to pull the weeds, and whilst doing so I met Cecil, he was a common garden snake – perfectly harmless," he murmured quietly, his eyes dull with pain. "He was my confidant, I spoke to him about the Dursleys and he... _comforted _me in return, until one day Petunia found him. She took the shovel from the shed, and the past is the past, but his screams were so horrible,"

"Oh, Samael," Draco murmured; stretching his arms to the side and engulfing the other boy in a loose hug. "I'm so sorry for brining up memories which are so painful to you." the Lestrange only shook his head, and pulled away from the warmth of the Malfoy's chest.

"No, no, it is quite all right," Samael's voice was husky from the lump at the back of his throat. "I am sure that Parkinson and Zabini are waiting for us in the Hall."

Draco did not speak upon the fact that Samael had so obviously changed the subject, and he had no wish to drag up those memories once again, so he just led the way towards the hall before a thought hit him. "Are you well, Samael?" he asked, and sharp emerald eyes bore upon his own. "You looked quite peaky this morning."

"I was perfectly well this morning, Dragon, thank you for asking, I was just mulling over some thoughts," Draco glanced at him curiously, and a rather vicious smile stretched across the Lestrange's face. "I received a letter at lunch – from Percival Brockling – asking about a certain reporter's idea to shame the Potters, and I have reached the decision to take her up on that offer."

And Draco could only match the predatory smile which had spread across Samael's face; he had been wishing so long for this moment, the moment where the Potters would receive their comeuppance.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm sorry this is so late everybody! Currently unbetaed since I wanted to get it out ASAP! :)

Oh, and I received an anonymous review from Cherrie-San, and I quite agree with them about Draco's maturity of the situation. Thanks for all the lovely reviews!


	19. To Serve Justice

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p>To Serve Justice...<p>

_You have no home, you've lost your throne, where has it gone?_

_Hello Again - Lostprophets_

* * *

><p>Tuesday 6th October 1992<p>

Blonde hair pulled into a loose bun bobbed as the woman hurried across the street, Lily Potter had just entered Flourish & Blotts and she would not let the red-head evade her. It was getting tiresome now, three weeks had passed since Brockling had replied, stating that Harry had agreed to her plans, but Lily had not left Hogwarts in that time, and had only ventured out today since she needed another book for her class. She only had a limited time-frame, Rita knew this, and with that in mind, she followed the red-head into the shop.

Entering the shop, Rita immediately spotted the younger woman walking into the Muggle section of the store, and stooping to he lowest shelf. _'Perfect.' _the sharp rap of her heels against the floor, informed the Potter of her approach, and the red-head cast her a dismissive glance before returning to the books. Hiding the snarl which was desperately wanting to stretch her face, Rita slammed her leg into the other woman, causing both of them to collapse into a heap.

"What do you think you're doing?" the red-head thundered. "You knew I was there, why did you do that!"

_'Predictable, aren't you Mrs. Potter?' _"I'm so sorry!" Rita gushed, staggering to her feet. "I tripped in my shoes, you know how stilettos are," Rita offered, with a sheepish smile, yet Lily was still glaring at her from the floor.

"_No,_ I don't know what stilettos are like, I hardly need them in my profession," she sniffed.

"My dear, everyone girl needs a pair of stilettos," Rita's smile turned coy, "Don't you know it turns men into putty in your hands? Though, I don't suppose you need that since you're married and have two little boys. Tell me, how is Harry? Have you seen him lately? Or is it much easier to fob him off with your abusive relatives?"

The anger was instantaneous. Lily's face scrunched into an outraged grimace, whilst her hand leapt immediately to her wand. "How _dare _you say that? I love Harry, just because I haven't seen him in a while doesn't mean I abuse him!"

Rita snarled at the woman. "You haven't seen your son in over a decade, Potter! How do you love him? You love the idea of him, of the Boy-Who-Lived, so you allowed him to be abused for the majority of his life, you don't love him!"

A crowd was gathering now, attracted to the sounds of the famous 'golden wife' shouting at an unknown woman. "I love my son! I _love _my son!"

"Say his name then!" Rita demanded. "Say his name, and tell me why you allowed the abuse to happen!"

"He wasn't abused! He only got the odd slap, it wouldn't have hurt much!"

Rita faltered, physically shocked at the woman's words, and by the indrawn gasp of the crowd, they all heard what the woman said as well. "You're justifying child abuse?" she asked, staring at the Potter in horror. "You're actually justifying it, just what is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, and there's nothing wrong with hitting a child when they're being naughty!"

"Have you ever hit Robert then?" Rita spat, and by the indignant look on Lily's face, she clearly hadn't. "No? Then why is it okay for Harry to be hit? Is it because he's the Boy-Who-Lived, or just because you never see him?"

"Shut up! Just shut _up_!" Lily screamed, pointing her wand at the blonde woman. "Diffindo!"

Rita moved swiftly, but the spell still hit her. Crying out, Rita clutched at her arm, watching in disbelief as her fingers were quickly stained with blood. Outrage cries erupted from the watching crowd, and a flying spell caught the Potter into a stupefy.

"Potter nearly killed her!" "What? Has she gone crazy?" "Did you hear what she said? She said that Harry Potter gets slapped, and she doesn't care!" "Child abuser!" "What a cow!" "Has someone flooed the aurors yet?"

A bustle of activity flowed around Rita, as worried onlookers rushed to her side, and one began uttering a healing charm to her arm. Glancing up, she saw a pair of concerned blue eyes staring down at her, and she vaguely recognised him as one of the healers from St Mungos she had interviewed once. "Thank you," she said to the man, who merely waved her words away.

"Nonsense, Ms. Skeeter, I'm only doing what any upholding citizen would do. Now, is there anywhere else you hurt, did you hit your head?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine. More than fine actually, could you show me where the aurors are please? I would like to make a formal statement." And with that, the blonde woman began towards the huddle of ruby-red clad witches and wizards, smiling reassuringly at the crowd. _'I love the public, they're so judgemental..' _she thought, as their words washed over her.

"If she's capable of doing that to a poor stranger, what does she do at home?" "You heard her what she said, Potter beats her kids." "Those poor dears, get the protective services involved!" "Where are the aurors? We need to make sure that those boys are safe!"

_'Ah, they will do everything for me...'_

* * *

><p>18:59<p>

Dumbledore leant towards the Potter on his left, "James, we have a problem," Albus murmured quietly so that none of the other professors would hear. "Lily has been arrested for assault."

"What! How could that happen!" he demanded, his loud tone causing most of the professors to stare.

"She assaulted a woman in Flourish and Blotts, and began screaming about Harry's home life," James paled dramatically at the man's words. "I've tried talking to woman pressing the charges, but she refused to back down, and then told me to get out or she'd accuse me of harassment."

"Oh Merlin," James breathed, clutching his crazed locks within his hands. "How the hell are we meant to get out of this?" he asked, his hazel eyes wide and hopeful at his mentor, but before Dumbledore could answer, the owls began to fly into the hall. "Oh Merlin, please don't tell me the press has got wind of this?" he moaned, yet by the reaction of the gossiping crowd he could not be too hopeful.

His familiar brown owl landed in front of him, his beak high in the air, whilst his leg was stretched out. Shaking fingers swiftly untied the paper from the owl, and sure enough 'LILY POTTER ARRESTED – CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES INVESTIGATE POTTER CHILDREN RECORDS' was emblazoned across the front.

_Today, Lily Potter (nee Evans), 32, was arrested following an attack on a 36 year old woman in the Hogsmeade store of Flourish & Blotts. Witnesses report hearing raised voices, and when they arrived at the scene, Potter declared 'He wasn't abused! He just gets the odd slap, it wouldn't have hurt much'. _

_ The argument continued, until Potter cast the cutting curse at the woman,who is pressing charges of assault, and as a result of her official statement to the Aurors, an official enquiry into the Potters home-life by the Department of Child Protective Services has been launched._

_ This is a disastrous outlook for the Hogwarts staff, not only has the school nurse – Poppy Pomfrey, 59, - been charged with negligence, but the Muggle Studies has been arrested for assault, and both she and her husband – James Potter, 32 – the Flying instuctor are being investigated by the Child Protective Services. I ask you this, are our children safe?_

"James! What the hell is the Prophet saying? Harry's fine isn't he? He's not being hit, what utter tosh!" Sirius exclaimed loudly, whilst patting his friend firmly on the shoulder with a grin. But when the Potter didn't reply, his hand slowly withdrew. "James? I-It's not true, is it?" the cautious question, laden with disbelief.

"Oh Gods, I'm so sorry!" James cried out, burying his face in his hands. "They were making sure the fame didn't go to his head, just to keep him grounded! My father hit me sometimes, and yours did too!"

Fury mottled the Black's face, as the man clenched his fists in anger. "Your father barely touched you, James! He gave you a rap on the wrist and nothing more, and your trying to justify yourself using _my father_! My father _never _hit me, where did you hear such tripe? No-one slaps their children, _no-one_! Children are precious; all my father did was send me to my room!"

"Why are you defending him? You hate your father!" James meekly said, attempting to hide from the hundred-odd pair of eyes staring at him.

"I hate my father for kicking me out of the house, not because of anything else!" Sirius retorted, glaring at the man. "Don't use my family problems as an excuse for your own behaviour, just get out! I can't stand to look at you," he demanded, and when James faltered, Sirius just got angrier. "Get out of my sight! _Now_!"

"Now, Sirius, I'm sure that James is feeling really bad-"

"No, Albus! It's not James I should be comforting right now, it's my godsons! How could I not see it, Albus? I see Robert practically every day, and I never see bruises! Just how could I have missed this?"

"The article could be lying, Sirius-"

"He admitted to it, Albus. He told me that Harry was safe with Lily's relatives, how does hitting him make him safe?" he implored, his onyx eyes wide with anger.

"And I do not suppose _you _ever decided to see whether your godson was safe, Black? I mean, why would you if the precious Potters say he is? You're a disgrace, Black, if you truly loved your godson then you would have checked up on him. You've gone a decade without seeing him, and a decade being abused does not generally instil happy feelings in a child," Severus sneered from further down the table.

"Shove off, Snivilus! You've never liked the Potters, so don't act all high and mighty; as if you care!" Sirius bellowed, oblivious to the stares of the watching students and furious glare of the Potions Master.

"Excuse me," Severus thundered, "No child deserves to be hit by their parents or guardians, regardless of who his parents are! I would not care if Harry Potter was the son of Grindewald himself, _no _child should be abused!"Accusing eyes glared at the Black, and Sirius commented no further, but instead fled from the hall.

"We cannot keep James or Lily on the staff, Albus," Minerva stated from her position beside the Headmaster, who was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "They are being investigated by the CPS, Albus, think of the school, we cannot have suspected child abusers working here!"

Disappointed blue eyes stared into Minerva's. "Have more faith, Minerva, surely you cannot believe Lily and James capable of such atrocities?"

Minerva's stern gaze narrowed even further. "He all but admitted it, Albus. They may continue to live in their rooms until the investigation is completed, but they must not teach. Poppy has left our employ, and we have gained the wonderful Victoria Effing, Lily and James must leave before the press kicks off. It's a sad thing to see two of our own in such a situation, but it is life, and we must face up to it. Now give them their notice, or I shall." And with that, she quickly departed the hall, unaware of the appreciating onyx eyes following her.

* * *

><p>Wednesday 15th October 1992<p>

"Hey, Snivilus!" a nasty voice shouted from across the near empty corridor, and Andras turned from where he was chatting with Ginny to face the irate Potter. "Who did Snape imperio to have you then?" his red-headed companion puffed up in anger, but Andras quietly asked her to calm down as he flashed amber eyes at Robert.

"My father, who you have not referred to by his full title or with his proper respect, did not use any spells to conceive myself, Potter," Andras calmly stated, yet his clenched fists told everyone of his anger. "Both my father and my dad are fully aware of each other's intentions and love, and they are in no need to deceive one another. A novelty in you household I presume?" the taunt went unnoticed by the Pottter. "Now, as much as I would like to say that I enjoy conversing with you, I would be lying, and my parents taught me proper etiquette and manners – unlike _some people._"

"The greasy-git's a queer?" Potter questioned with wide eyes, and Andras fixed him with the familial glare.

"I see that speaking to you will only lower my intelligence," Andras drawled acerberically as you prove yourself to be a pathetic dunderhead. If by queer, you are referring to homosexuality, then yes my father is, as I have already stated that my _fathers _love each other. Do keep up, I find that repetition only lowers one's intelligence. I would say 'good day', however I am sure that you remember my comments on lying."

"Stop insulting me!" the Potter screamed, whipping his wand from his pocket. "Stop being such a bastard, and fight me like a man!"

Ginny stiffened beside him, and Andras knew that she was about to interfere, yet he knew her well enough not to stop her. "Robert! Stop being so rude!" she chastised with a glare worthy of Severus Snape himself, "That is no way to speak to someone you don't know!"

Robert flushed with embarrassment, and scowled at the chuckling Snape. "Ginny, what are you even doing with Snivilus? He's turning you against us already!"

"_Andras_," the red-headed witch stressed her friend's name pointedly, "has not turned me against anyone. Andras is my friend, a good friend, something you'll never understand because you've never been my friend. Now man up, and get over it!"

"_Ginny_-"

"Get lost, Robert!" the girl demanded, shoving the boy with a hand to his chest. Robert flushed with anger and the girl, and captured her wrist in his larger hand whilst peering menacingly down at her.

"Stay away from Snivilus, Ginny, or I'll tell your brother, and he won't be too happy about it!"

Snarling, Ginny pulled her hand free before pointing her wand firmly between the Potter's eyes. "Try your damnedest just try it!"

"Oh, I will, just watch me! Your parents are going to be so ashamed to see you mixing with scum like him!" Robert sneered, batting her wand away before shoving his way past Andras.

Silence reigned in the corridor, save for Ginny's harsh breathing, and Andras only patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about that Ginny, I'll just leave you alone from now on, yeah? I don't want you to fall out with your family over me," the Snape stated sadly, whilst pulling away from the girl.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Andras Snape!" Ginny threatened lowly, staring wildly into Andras' wide amber eyes. "Ignore what Robert says, he talks out of his arse most of the time, Mum and Dad won't mind me being friends with you. Besides, I wouldn't abandon my best friend over what _Robert Potter _said," she declared indignantly. "Do you really think so little of me?" the question was drenched in anger, and Andras winced at the hurt he could hear underlying her tone.

Ducking his head in shame, he stared pointedly at his shoes. "'M sorry," he mumbled out, flinching at Ginny's heavy sigh. "You're one of the first friends I've ever had, sure I've known Draco since I was little and he's like a protective older brother, and Samael has been really fun to be around, but you're the first person to say that I'm your friend," Samael faltered, and his next words too quiet to hear.

"What was that, Andras?" Ginny's voice was sharp, and Andras refused to look into her surely angry face.

"I said that I guess I didn't want to jeopardise our friendship by me being selfish and wanting you to choose me over Potter," he rushed out, frowning at a spot beside Ginny's feet.

"For such a smart Ravenclaw, you can be so stupid sometimes." And Andras was relieved to hear the amusement in her voice, but didn't know whether to complimented or insulted over her words, but before he could think upon it, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his middle. "What are you-?"

"Oh be quiet, Andras. _You _are my friend, and I am not going to abandon you; and you are not selfish for wanting me to choose you, I will always choose _you _over Robert," she stated with so much conviction, it had to be true. "But if you ever dare to presume that I'll be pressured by Robert Potter, then I will string you up by your ears, is that clear?"

Her voice brooked not argument, and Andras could only help but smile at the girl. "Of course, Ginny, thank you."

"Oh pish posh!" she said, swatting him in the chest. "You don't have to thank me for anything, now let's get to Charms, or Black'll try and bully you again."

Andras only grinned at her words. "He could try, but does he honestly think insulting my father will get me to shout at him? No, it is much more satisfying to verbally eviscerate him in front of the class."

"Yeah, yeah." the girl smiled to herself, whilst picking her book-bag from the floor.

"Hey, Ginny? Is this yours?" Andras questioned, holding the black leather journal in the air. The Gryffindor girl flushed red and hurriedly grabbed it from his hands.

"Yeah, it's just something I found in the library," she muttered, stuffing it as quickly as she could into her bag. Andras only raised any eyebrow at her.

"It looks suspiciously like a diary to me," he teased, whilst crooking his elbow for her to hold.

The girl paused for a second, before looping her arm through his. "It _is _a diary, just not _mine,_ alright? I didn't steal it or anything," she added quickly, seeing the look on his face. "I did genuinely find it, but it must have been a student who has already graduated, 'cause I don't know any Tom Riddle's."

"Tom Riddle?" Andras echoed, a frown forming on his face. "Hmmm, I've heard of him before, but I can't remember where," he furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Well, wherever I've heard heard name, he mustn't mind having his diary read if he left it in the library."

Ginny's eyes brightened at his acceptance. "Exactly what I thought!" she declared, before broaching the subject she had been wishing to ask Andras on. "In fact, he has been teaching me about pureblood customs, and he suggested something for me to do something for Draco Malfoy."

* * *

><p>17th October 1992<p>

The sounds were near deafening, an air of excitement seemed to surround the entire student population, and the sense of anticipation was almost palpable. Nervously, she twisted her fingers and gazed down at her table. What would they think of her after this? Her brothers? Hermione?

She had become fast friends with the older girl, when Hermione cornered her in the library one day, (demanding information on anything Ginny knew on the Autumn Equinox, since she had read about it in Hogwarts: A History but no-one she asked seemed to know anything about it), and she could see how Hermione was staring at her with a small frown of concern. She attempted a smile but it must not have that assuring judging by the look of the other girl's face.

She locked her eyes upon encouraging amber orbs from across the hall, and the red-haired girl nodded resolutely – she would do this. So, after mustering all of the Grryffindor courage she possessed she stood to the bewilderment of her house-mates, and stepped away from the bench.

Quickly, the students latched onto her form, obviously understanding that the excitement that had building within the hall was due to whatever this first-year was going to do. Clenching her sweaty hands, she strode towards the Slytherin table, attempting to ignore the curious and disdainful stares boring into her. Emerald eyes assessed her as she stopped before the tense form of Draco Mafloy, and she briefly inclined her head at the boy.

"H-Heir Malfoy," her wary voice stammered, at the frigid silver orbs glaring at her. Her shaking pale hand clenched tightly before settling over her heart, and she lowered her head in humility, glancing nervously at the Slytherin between locks of her flaming-red hair. "Upon the name of the family Weasley, I apologise most profusely for the grievous actions my great grandfather – Wilfred Weasley – committed against the most noble house Malfoy, specifically Wilfred Weasley's raping of Adalia Malfoy and the consequent death of the unborn Malfoy heir,"

The sound of collective gasps were heard throughout the hall, as well as the outraged shouts from her brothers, but Ginny paid them no heed, instead only curtsied at the Malfoy. "I pledge a magic oath to never raise my wand against a member of the most ancient and noble house Malfoy – so mote it be." Her hardened hazel eyes bored into the wide silver eyes of the Slytherin, as strands of glowing brown escaped the girl and centred around the blonde boy.

"Samael?" Draco's disbelieving voice called, and Ginny pointedly glanced away, as the boy in question placed a heavy hand upon the blonde's shoulder.

And despite her attempt of giving the Slytherin his privacy, Ginny couldn't help but hear, the soothing yet hard words of the Lestrange, and found them oddly comforting. _'He sounds almost like Tom...'_ "It is an end to the blood feud between the Malfoy family and the Weasley family, Dragon," Ginny couldn't help but smile at the moniker. "Your grandfather and Adalia finally have the justice they deserve, this entire hall now knows the atrocity that Wilfred Weasley committed."

"But their head of the family did not pledge anything!" Draco protested – Tom had mentioned this particular aspect, but he also said something of her placing her family's honour in the balance.

"Ginerva has not only pledged her alliance, but also informed everyone how dishonest the Weasley name is – if the patriarch does not move toward a truce, then they will be scorned. Ginerva here, has magically declared her ancestor a criminal, and if Arthur Weasley does not rectify that mistake by apologising, then he will only muddy his family's name."

At this, wild silver eyes locked onto hers. "You have been granted a boon, Dragon, do not mistake it." _'Yes, Lestrange definitely reminds me of Tom, they are very much alike. Speaking of Tom, what __did he mean by a favour? I mean, of course I'll do him a favour, but what does he want in the second-floor bathroom?' _She mused to herself, before stiffening as the Malfoy stood from his seat.

"I thank you for your words, Miss Weasley, as the heir of the Malfoy family, I accept your apology and declare an end to our blood feud." Samael smiled ever so slightly at the blonde, and Ginny could swear the emotions swimming in those silver orbs were one of happiness and despair.

Curtsying once again, she hurriedly exited the hall, ignoring her brother's shouts at her to stop. And as she ran into her dorm room, the only thought in her mind was _'Maybe the Slytherins aren't that bad.'_

* * *

><p>28th October 1992<p>

"Dawes," Madam Bones cold voice called, and the Auror in question quickly nodded at her. "You and Charleston are to go to Hogwarts, and you are to arrest Lily and James Potter." His blue eyes stared questioningly into hers, and she wordlessly handed over the file in her hand.

Quickly, he scanned the contents, before his eyes grew hard with anger. Nodding in acknowledgement to his superior, Dawes cast questioning blue eyes onto hers. "What am I charging them for, ma'am?"

"Child negligence." her angry voice supplied, and with a second nod, Dawes and his partner hurriedly complied to her wishes.

"That was terrible," Dawes murmured to Johnny Charleston, once Bones was out of earshot. "Did you read the healer's notes?" he questioned incredulously. "Any longer and he would've _died,_ at ten years old! Merlin, how could they do that?

Charleston didn't answer, only shake his head in disgust.

"What do you reckon they'll get? Five? Six... no seven. I bet you they'll get seven years in Azkaban. The Kiss' for murder, life's for attempted murder, twenty's for Death Eater activity, ten's for manslaughter, and five's for child abuse, so seven years, you reckon?" the zealous Auror questioned, leading his partner into the dingy back-alley used for apparation.

"Bastards deserve longer," Chareleston's gruff voice stated, "That list was over a page long, and Robert Potter's only listed a broken bone! Harry had a pneumothorax, incorrectly healed bones, fractured ribs, haematomas, and that was just what was healed. Imagine how many times he would have gone through that? Bastards' should get the kiss is what I say!" he declared hotly, before grabbing the younger man's arm and spinning them into apparation.

Dawes yanked his arm back with a short glare to his partner, but didn't say anything, as the other man's anger was understandable in his opinion. With nothing said, they began the trek up a dirt-path, both staring at the looming presence of Hogwarts Castle with an air of wistfulness. Minutes of silence past, before the two Aurors managed to reach the castle doors, and a rosy hue was colouring their cheeks from the effort.

"It's rather quiet," Dawes murmured, taking in the empty corridor.

Charleston 'hmmed' in agreement, "They're probably at lunch." A rather large smirk stretched the Auror's features as he stated those words, and Dawes could not help but match it. The Potters were about to be publicly shamed.

The route to the Great Hall was an easy one to remember, as they traced the familiar corridors, and excited chattering became audible with each step taken. Glancing at his watch, Charleston grinned. "1:15. They've just been served food, everyone is bound to be in there."

Nodding at one another, they both pulled down their proverbial 'Auror mask' (gritted teeth, jutted chins, and stern glares), before slamming the doors open with a loud 'bang'. Instantly hundreds of eyes turned to stare at them, and whispers grew in intensity as they recognised the significance of the robes to two newcomers were wearing. Albus Dumbledore stood from his seat, his arms open in a welcoming embrace, yet the two Aurors paid the man little attention as they marched behind the head table. Wide eyes full of curiosity and worry were staring at them, as each stood behind one of the Potters.

"Aurors, is there something you wish to speak to us about?" Lily simpered, twisting around in her chair to look the Auror behind her in the eyes.

Dawes restrained himself from sneering at the woman, and repeated the necessary words. "Yes ma'am, if you would please stand, and place your hands behind your back, that would be much appreciated."

The woman's face twisted into confusion, before morphing into indignant anger. "You're arresting me? What for?" she hissed, yet her words were clear to the quiet hall.

Dawes did sneer this time. "I will ask you again, Mrs Potter, please stand and place your hands behind your back, or I'll be forced to do so for you,"

"No! How dare you!" she screeched, thundering to her feet, however as soon as she stood, Dawes had bent her over the back of the chair, and swiftly placed magic-restraining handcuffs upon her.

"Lily Potter, I am arresting you under suspicion of child negligence, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand these charges?" he questioned into the silent hall.

"No!" the woman shouted, struggling in the Auror's grasp. "Harry was fine with Petunia! Vernon may have hit him sometimes, but it's nothing he couldn't handle!"

"Harry James Potter was adopted on the July 1991," he stated coldly, smirking into the woman's shocked gaze. "Legally, because you did not visit nor provide for your son in ten years, he was no longer in your care," he let that sink in, before continuing in a hard voice. "And it is a good thing that he was discovered when he was, because if he was found even ten minutes later then Harry Potter would have died in a back-alley of London due to a beating he received from his Uncle."

Dawes pulled the shocked woman back from the table, as Charleston placed the cuffs onto James. The accusing stares of the professors were boring into the Potters, apart from the Headmaster who was glaring at the Aurors.

"Now, now, gentlemen, I am sure we can reach some sort of understanding," he began genially, "I am sure there must be some mistake, someone must have fed you some lies about the Potters, because they are the best parents I have ever seen."

Charleston gave the Headmaster a hard stare. "No we will not reach some _understanding, _as that is called bribery, and bribing a law official is a criminal offence. Secondly, we have not been given false information, our information comes from Harry Potter's file from DoCPS, if you wish to hear the injuries that Harry Potter sustained to convince you that the Potters are not the 'best parents you have ever seen', then you may attend the trial of Lily and James Potter on the 3rd November 1992. Now please sit back down, or I will arrest you for perverting the course of justice," his voice serious, and eyes cold.

Wordlessly, the elder wizard sank back into his chair. "You will regret this, Aurors."

"Is that a threat?" Dawes asked in a hard voice, whilst tightening his grip on the woman in his hands.

The smile on Dumbledore's face was one of kindness. "Of course not, gentlemen, I was only offering some advice."

"Good day, sir," Dawes replied, whilst pulling Lily past the glaring professors. "Come on."

"You're going to regret this!" she spat into his face, "I'm Lily Potter! Don't you know who I am? I'm the mother to the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Dawes' face was full of disgust. "You have not been a mother to that child at all, Ms Potter, you gave up that right when you gave him to your sister so he could live in a cupboard and be beaten daily."

"He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he could handle it!"

"He was a child! His first bone was broken when he was five! He has permanent scarring due to being whipped, he had over thirty incorrectly healed bones, a punctured lung, infected wounds! You do not deserve children!" Charleston snapped from where he was leading an oddly silent James Potter towards the hall doors.

"You're lying! Petunia wouldn't-"

"Be quiet woman!" Dawes commanded, "Your sister and brother-in-law would, and they did. If you didn't want your child to be adopted, then you should have raised him yourself!"

The woman said nothing more; and as Dawes led the Potter from the hall, and when emerald eyes locked upon the Auror's, a satisfied smirk slowly grew across his face. Justice was finally being served.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I hope you all enjoy it! :)

Unbetaed, but I hope it's okay! :)


	20. To Open A Chamber

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><strong>To Open A Chamber<strong>

_It kills me not to know this, but I've all but just forgotten;_

_What the colour of her eyes were, and her scars or how she got them;_

_As the telling signs of age rain down a single tear is dropping;_

_To the valleys of an ageing face that this world has forgotten._

_Savior – Rise Against_

* * *

><p>Startled emerald eyes flitted around the classroom, yet he could not discover the source of the rustling sound. He supposed, the sound could have originated from the ridiculous amount of movement from the ostentatious Lockhart who was regaling the class with tales of his glorious feats, yet that somehow did not fit.<p>

Emerald eyes searched the classroom once more, ears straining to hear the sound. There! A soft slithering sound seemingly came from the very walls themselves. "Pain." The sound was almost too quiet, but the soft lilt the words had were unmistakable. Parseltongue. And his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what was a snake doing in the walls?

"Pain...So much pain... Master Tom stop the pain, master Tom!" The snake was female, but how could a pained female snake who had known his brother still be alive?

The sounds of chattering students erupted around him, and he was vaguely aware of Lockhart dismissing the class. The voice of the snake was muffled now, and no amounts of straining would allow him to hear her. Beating down the uncomfortable churning of his stomach, Samael gracefully stood to his feet and followed his oblivious blonde friend from the room.

"- Gods, please tell me that this professor is hiding something Samael!" Draco huffed, as a disgusted sneer stretched his face. "At least Quirrel turned out to be interesting, more than interesting – amazing really – but Lockhart is so shallow! Please tell me he serves your brother!"

"Hmm? Oh yes, I quite agree, Dragon," Samael murmured.

"Samael?" the voice was hesitant and worried. "Are you feeling quite all right? You didn't hear a word I said, and you never drift off, did someone curse you?"

Samael decided to not ponder on how well Draco knew him, or even attempt to decipher the warm feeling which was settling in his stomach with Draco's attentiveness. Instead he cast sharp emerald eyes onto the blonde. "No, no. I am quite well, thank you, Dragon, I was just distracted." A pair of curious silver pools focused upon him; Samael sighed softly. "There is something strange occurring within the school, and I am determined to discover what it is."

Draco paused with a strange look, and placed a light hand on the other boy's shoulder, frowning when the other flinched in surprise. "Are you sure you are fine, Samael? Potter has not said anything has he?"

Samael shook his head before his mind fully comprehended what his friend had said. "No, no, Potter hardly ever steps from the Lion's Den any more. Besides," Samael smirked at this, "Potter does not dare to approach any of us Slytherins, knowing our stance on child abuse."

Draco looked unconvinced, but shrugged it off. Instead, following the Lestrange, Draco travelled in comfortable silence whilst Samael effectively avoided the 'surreptitious' glances the blonde threw his way.

"Pain, oh, Master Tom!"

There she was! Near the girl's bathroom! So with no words said, Samael swivelled upon the heel of his good foot, and strode off in the opposite direction, a bewildered Malfoy swiftly chasing after him.

"Samael! Samael, wait!"

A furious glare and an impatient halt sign came from the Lestrange, and Draco dutifully followed in silence. "Master Tom, my eyes, Master Tom, how they hurt!" Samael's frown deepened and he quickened his pace accordingly, Draco hurrying after him in bewildered silence.

The boy stopped mid-stride (nearly causing the blonde to crash into his back), and quirked his head to the side, scouring for some noise. "Dammit!" the outraged expletive so loud and sudden, that Draco actually turned to see the source of the sound, for Samael could never have uttered it; Samael never swore. However, only Samael could have sworn since no-one else was present. Something was definitely not right with Samael, so with a tentative step, Draco placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What is the matter, Samael, truly?" A disarming smile curled the Lestrange's lips, but Draco would not allow himself to be blinded by his friend's wiles. "You are not yourself, and you are not alone, so tell me what is-"

Tense whispers echoed from further down the corridor, and Draco most certainly did not imagine the relieved breath which escaped Samael at the sound, however before the blonde could protest, Samael had taken off again in search for the new sounds. The Lestrange was stalking the shadows, and Draco would never have been able tell that Samael was in the corridor, if he wasn't already aware, for that was how effective the boy was at concealment.

The spike of Professor McGonagall's emerald pointed hat could be seen from around the corner, as well as the ostentatious robes of Dumbledore, and fashionable ones of Lockhart. Yet what drew the two Slytherins' attention was the sorrowful face of the Caretaker – Filch – whilst he clutched the still form of his beloved Mrs Norris to his chest.

"Let's not be too hasty, Minerva," Dumbledore's patient tone lolled down the corridor, and Draco saw the snarl on Samael's face at the voice. No, something was definitely not right.

"Stop pretending, Albus!" the unmistakable Scottish brogue was sharp; "This is exactly like 1945! Salazar's creature ran amok in this school then, and a student was killed! We must be prepared to close the sch-"

"We must not dwell on things that have not yet happened-"

"So you're going to allow this to continue until a student is killed?" the witch's voice was appalled, and Draco's ashen face told of his fear, yet he was distracted by the satisfied smile on the Lestrange's face.

"Of course, why did I not realise earlier?" the muttered words falling from Samael's lips whilst a small smirk graced his features. "A basilisk."

* * *

><p><em>2nd November 1992<em>

The room was bustling with activity, the stands were crowded to their maximum, all leaning in their seats to get a closer view of the high-profile suspects – Lily and James Potter – who were chained to two rotten wooden chairs, and two notorious wizards who hadn't been seen in Wizengamot in quite some time – Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange.

With a 'bang' a door to the front of the room opened, and a stern-faced Amelia Bones strode through, and climbed the short stairs to the pulpit before banging her gavel against the stand. "We are gathered here for the trial of state versus Lily and James Potter, charged with child abuse. How do the defendants plead?"

At this, Lily stood to her feet, her gaze defiantly locking onto the narrowed blues of Madame Bones, and declared. "Innocent!"

Madame Bones frowned. "Very well, prosecution state your case."

A middle-aged man in sharp robes stood and offered a short bow to Wizengamot. "Harry James Potter was only fourteen months old when he was left upon the doorstep of the late Petunia and Vernon Dursley on 31st October 1981. From that moment onwards, Harry Potter was violently abused, whilst receiving no personal contact from the accused. He was starved, locked in a cupboard, and beaten; he has permanent scarring from the abuse he sustained, alongside dietary problems from being starved. Lily and James Potter stand accused of child abuse, because of the lack of care they held for their youngest son, who faced death multiple times, not because of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but because of a flying fist from his aunt and uncle!"

Angry murmurs filled the hall as the lawyer sank back into his chair, and the defence – a relatively young man in the latest style of robes – stood to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, flashing a smile at those present. "The charges against Lily and James Potter are preposterous, they have not raised a hand to either of their sons, and they were unaware of the abuse their youngest son was suffering from. They placed their son in Petunia Dursley's care due to the threat of lingering Death Eaters, and received regular letters of Harry's well health however when they expressed a wish in taking him back in, they were told of Harry's wish to stay with his aunt and uncle and did not wish to upset him. Lily and James Potter are accused of child abuse, when in reality they are just two parents who love their children."

"Prosecution, call your first witness," Madame Bones called.

"Lily Potter," the lawyer declared, and the woman straightened in her chair and offered a kind smile to the crowds. "When was the last time you saw Harry Potter?" he asked.

"The night that You-Know-Who attacked our home,"

"The 31st October 1981?" he queried, and Lily stated the affirmative.

"And why did you place your son in the care of your sister and brother-in-law?"

"The Death Eaters were still at large, and James and I knew he would be a target of their rage."

"So you placed Harry Potter with your sister due to the threat of the Death Eaters?" she nodded, "Why not keep him in Potter Manor with his Godfather?"

The question clearly threw her, and she frowned. "I did not think that was wise."

"Because of Sirius Black's drinking problem?" Lily nodded once again, and he offered her an encouraging smile. "That was a very responsible idea, such a caring mother you are. Tell me, though, when were you planning on retrieving your son from your sister's care?"

"Once the Death Eaters had been caught."

"The last remaining Death Eater – Bartimeus Crouch Jr. - was imprisoned on 11th November 1991, why did you not get Harry back then?"

"I did not think it was an ideal time."

"Because you were receiving the benefits of being the mother to the Boy-Who-Lived." he stated, much to Lily's ire.

"No!" her denial was fuelled with indignation.

"So you did not accept any gifts on behalf of Harry?"

"No!"

"May I remind you that you are to tell the truth, Ms Potter," he stated disapprovingly, "I submit evidence A," he declared, showing a piece of paper around the courtroom. "This is a bank statement dated 7th November 1991, which shows that you and your husband gained over one hundred galleons which were originally intended for your son. Is it not true that you let your son stay with your abusive sister, so that he could not contest your ill-gotten gains!"

Lily struggled against her bindings. "No!"

"So you did not receive any monies and possessions that were for your son?" his accusing tone was sharp.

"Fine!" she snapped, glaring her blazing green eyes at him. "Yes, I did accept the money. But he was fine with Petunia, he was fed and had a roof over his head; it was only meant to be for a couple of weeks!"

"Yet you have not seen your son in over a decade, did you keep in contact with your son?"

Lily smiled at this, a relieved breath escaping her mouth. "Yes, yes I did. I sent him letters at least once a week."

"May I submit, evidence B, which was retrieved from the Dursley's household," he stated, whilst showing Madame Bones and the accused a piece of paper. "Ms Potter, do you recognise this handwriting?" he questioned; Lily leant in closer to read the paper and paled.

"Yes, that is my handwriting."

"May you read the letter aloud, Ms Potter?" he asked, whilst holding the letter in front of her eyesight.

"My dearest Harry, I hope you are doing well. Your father, brother and I have just visited Calais in France, it was fantastic! Robert misses his little brother, he really wants to visit you but the threat of Death Eaters is still high, and we cannot risk it! I know that Aunt Petunia isn't the kindest woman when it comes to our kind, Harry, but you'll just have to grin and bear it, and know that we love you. Kisses and hugs, your mother."

"So not only did you know, if not, at least suspect that Petunia Dursely would not offer your son a caring environment, you told your son to 'grin and bear it'?" he questioned incredulously.

"I knew that she didn't like people with magic, she was jealous that's all, she wouldn't physically hurt him!"

"What about her husband? Vernon Dursely, could you be sure that your son would be safe with him?"

"No."

"Yet, you happily sent your son to live with them." mutters across the courtroom rose in volume. "Tell me, did Petunia ever reply to your letters?" the woman once again stated the negative.

At this, he looked confused. "I thought that you said that it was Petunia Dursley who told you that Harry wished to remain with her? She did not tell you, then?"

Lily glared at the man. "No, she did not tell me, but it was obvious since she didn't reply to my letters."

"Your sister was a Muggle was she not?" Lily nodded. "Did you think that she may not know how to contact you? Was she aware of your address?" Another shake. "Did the owl even wait for a response?". Yet another shake. "Is it possible, that you did not wish for a response? Isn't the real reason that you didn't offer any option for Harry to respond, was because you knew your son was being abused and you didn't wish to be reminded?"

"Objection!" the defence shouted. "He's leading the witness!"

"Withdrawn," Madam Bones stated with a disproving frown, "Answer the question Ms Potter."

"."

"Were you aware of the abuse Harry Potter sustained whilst in your sister's care?"

"No."

"But didn't you state the opposite when you were arrested on 28th October of this year?"

"Pardon?"

"Did you or did you not state, and I quote 'Vernon may have hit him sometimes, but it's nothing he couldn't handle.' when being arrested?" Cries of outrage erupted from the public, and the grim faces of wizengamot scowled at the woman.

"Yes, but I was stressed!"

"I ask again, Ms Potter, were you or were you not aware that Vernon Dursley was hitting your son?"

"It was only the odd slap-"

"Answer yes or no, Ms Potter."

"Yes."

"Why did you allow this to happen, Ms Potter?"

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, he survived You-Know-Who he could survive his uncle!"

"Were you aware that Harry Potter was kept in a cupboard under the stairs for the entirety of his life whilst with your sister?"

"No."

"Were you aware that Vernon Dursely broke Harry Potter's arm when Harry was five years old?"

"No."

"Were you aware that Harry was denied medical treatment?"

"No."

"Were you aware that Harry Potter was regularly starved whilst living with your sister?"

"No."

"Were you aware that on 11th July 1991, Vernon Dursley physically attacked your son until the point of death?"

"No."

"And is the reason not because you did not care to know?"

"No!"

"Then why did you not visit your son?" the woman did not reply, and the man shook his head. "Wouldn't any decent mother have at least checked up on their son?"

"Well at least I am not a decent mother then," Lily's reply was scathing, and lacking any remorse.

"I rest my case," he declared, whilst taking his seat once again.

"Defence, any questions for the witness?" Madam Bones asked, and the younger wizard was decidedly lack-luster in his agreement. None saw the nod of approval she sent to the wizard.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts newest Mediwitch looked up from her medical charts to glare at her intruders, only to immediately vacate her seat and hurry to where Sirius Black was carrying the unconscious form of a second-year Hufflepuff boy.<p>

"Name?" she questioned, whilst waving her hand over the boy.

"Justin Fitch-Fletchley," slurred the man, and her narrowing gaze was sharp on the man. "Is he the same as Mrs. Norris?"

She returned her gaze to the boy, and nodded solemnly. "Yes, he has been petrified."

"Well what's doing it then?" he questioned, his eyes wild as they glared at the MediWitch. "What's Slytherin's beast? I bet you know, don't you? I remember you were a Slytherin; couple of years below me, but a filthy little snake nonetheless! What is it then?"

"If you cannot figure out the creature by yourself, Black, then you are incapable of thought," she drawled, which seemed strange as the woman was performing the gentle action of plumping pillows for the petrified boy. "Salazar Slytherin spoke to snakes, he created a chamber inside the school to house his familiar, and said familiar petrifies people. Now, I am far from a genius, however that seems to point to one creature, and one creature only."

Sirius stiffened, and took a threatening step towards the unimpressed healer. "What are you saying, snake? What are you hiding from me!" spittle flew from his mouth, and the overwhelming stench of firewhiskey burned her sinuses.

"Get away from me, Black!" she snarled as the man invaded her personal space, but the man just grabbed her wrist instead. "Get off me!" she repeated, roughly yanking her arm back from the wizard.

"Tell me what you are hiding!"

"Sirius Black!" a loud voice reprimanded, and Victoria hid her smirk as the man flinched at the sound. "What do you think you are doing? How dare you threaten a member of staff!" The furious form of Minerva McGonagall stormed into the room, an angry scowl fixed on her face.

"Minerva,"

"Do not Minerva me, Sirius Black!" she thundered, and her nostrils flared as she approached the man. "Have you been drinking?" Sucking in a deep breath, Sirius hurriedly shook his head. "Do not lie to me, Sirius! You would have thought that after that indecent assault charge, you wouldn't risk your career again, yet you astound me."

"Please, Minerva, Lily and James – I can't believe what they've been doing; I've known them for years!"

"That is no excuse for drinking whilst at work!" her voice was clipped, and her eyes narrowed. "Now not only have you been drinking but you have also assaulted a member of staff,"

"But Minerva, she knows what the beast is! She's probably been helping the Slytherins! I bet you it is Malfoy, he's a rotten egg if ever I've seen one, plus he's a Slytherin, the whole house is full of the filthy-"

"Sirius Black! I may have humoured your pathetic hatred for Slytherins whilst your were a child, however you are now a fully grown man picking on children. Now it pains me to say this, but Peter Pettigrew-" she ignored his snarl, "The man who betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who was one of our own, so cease your prejudices."

"But the beast! She knows what the beast is!"

The woman appeared unperturbed, "As does every member of staff who attended the staff meeting last Thursday," she frowned at the man with pursed lips, "The beast is a basilisk, and whilst this is disturbing, Pomona is growing Mandrakes and Severus is brewing the appropriate potion to revive those who have been petrified."

"Snivilus!" Sirius sneered, releasing a huff of annoyance. "I bet you that he's helping the Snakes, the slimy little-"

"Enough!" the elder witch's clipped tones rang through the room and Sirius' look of disgust morphed into one of contrition. "You have failed to listen to a word I say, you have repeatedly degraded Severus Snape for many years, you are drunk and you assaulted Victoria. As acting Headmistress I am afraid that I have no choice but to suspend you from work, please collect your belongings and leave the castle by six o'clock tonight."

Sirius' brows furrowed in desperation. "Minerva, don't do this! I need this job, I need it!" the woman refused to comment. "I'll tell Albus, I will! And he'll give you a tongue-lashing; you can't fire me, Albus will-"

"Albus has no say of my decisions, and in his absence I am the highest authority here." Minerva drew herself to her highest height, and fixed her sternest glare on the man. "And as acting Headmistress I am suspending you forthwith. Now leave my sight!"

Sirius Black did as he was told, and furiously stalked from the room, banging the door as he left.

An amused twist of lips graced Victoria's features. "Well done, Professor McGongagall," her words tainted with something sour. "It is wonderful seeing these prejudices coming to end."

Said woman could only nod faintly, cast a searching look at the petrified Hufflepuff, and leave the room, intent on flooing the best Charms Professor she knew.

* * *

><p><em>3rd November 1992<em>

"Mr Brockling, may you state your credentials to the court please?" he asked the well-dressed middle-aged man at the stand.

"Certainly." And the smile sent to the court was one full of warmth. "I have a Masters in Warding and Family Magic, and I was the head of the Child Protetion Services for seventeen years."

"You have retired?"

"Yes, August of 1991."

"I see, and what are you affiliations with this case."

Brockling released a heavy sigh, "I dealt with the Harry Potter's adoption, and allowed the Aurors to access his files last month."

"Why only last month?"

"The family who adopted Harry, well they wanted to settle him in first." Brockling paused, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry... The Dursleys had convince him that he didn't deserve a loving family, and his adopted parents wanted to rectify that. I must admit, that after I finalised Harry's adoption I wanted more than anything to go to Aurors, but Harry would not have been able to bear his private life thrown around a court-room at that time."

"Is that why his adoption records have been sealed?"

Brockling frowned, "Adoptions are always kept private; only the Ministry official who officialised the adoption, in this case – me – knows who adopted a child. Afterwards, it is purely up to the parents on who can access adoption records, and in this case they have expressed a wish for them to remain private."

"I understand. In your professional opinion, what did you think of Harry's case?"

"Harry's case was the worst I have ever seen. The emotional abuse he suffered was extensive enough-"

"You mentioned, that he did not think himself worthy of a family?"

"Yes, his aunt and uncle never called him by his name, either 'freak' or 'boy'. They kept him in a cupboard under the stairs, worked him to the point of unconsciousness, and forced him to make them meals whilst starving him, all whilst telling him that his family did not love him because he was a 'freak' who did not deserve love," Brockling stated in a hollow voice, whilst glaring at the man and woman on the dais.

"I see. Did he know his parents?"

Brockling shook his head. "He never met his parents, he had seen photos of them, but never physically seen them, and he wasn't even sure on their names. The Dursleys used this fact to reinforce the belief that his own family did not care about him."

"What did Harry look like when you saw him?"

"He was small for his age, I first thought I was dealing with an eight-year old, however I later learned that his small stature was due to him being kept in a cupboard. He was also severely emaciated, he was literally skin and bones, you will see in the photos that his ribs were clearly visible and his arms and legs were extremely fragile."

"May I present evidence C – photos of Harry Potter taken on 13th July 1991," he declared, and audible gasps of shock and rage erupted from the court.

"You will also see in the photos, that Harry's stomach and back were covered in scars, some of these were scars were quite recent and were healing, however the majority of them were years old which Harry had sustained from age five, Harry told me that his uncle would whip him with his belt when angry." the fury in his voice was evident, and his clenched fists were turning white.

"And the bruises?"

The large dark patch on his stomach, is from where Vernon Dursley kicked him repeatedly, and the bruises on his face are from when Harry was slammed into the kitchen cabinets and knocked unconscious."

"Would this happen often?"

Brockling nodded, and cleared his throat. "Yes, almost once a week, however never as severely. The garage of the Dursley's house, was the designated area where Harry would be delivered his punishments. Vernon rarely kicked Harry, most of the time he whipped Harry with his belt until he was unconscious."

"And then what would he do?"

"Vernon would shake Harry awake, and order him to do a chore, such as making dinner, or mowing the garden."

"Without medical treatment?"

"Yes. Harry was not registered at the local medical practice as the Dursleys did not have any legal information for him, so they could not take him to receive treatment."

"The Dursleys did not have any legal information for Harry?"

"No. Lily and James Potter had not given the Dursley's Harry's birth certificate, or any kind of adoption certificate, so they could not register him at the practice or for primary education."

"So technically,the Dursley's never legally had guardianship of Harry Potter?"

"That is correct, yes. Harry Potter was legally in the care of Lily and James Potter."

"Then how could Harry be adopted?"

"Because even though Harry was legally under the guardianship of Lily and James Potter, neither of them had provided money, food, or medical treatment for him, which is the first reason for removal of guardianship in the CPS' rulebook. Also, Harry was not only neglected, but also abused to the utmost extent, this allowed him to be given new guardians without the parents' notification."

"Harry was removed from the Potter's guardianship on 13th July 1991, and adopted on the same day. Could you explain why he was adopted so quickly?"

"A friend of Harry's adoptive parents' found Harry in a back-alley in London, and took him to Harry's adoptive aunt for healing. His adoptive parents were visiting at the time, met Harry and fell in love with him."

"So the adoption went quickly, as there was already prospective guardians for Harry?"

Brockling smiled sheepishly at his rather long-winded explanation, and nodded. "Yes, and they were well-known to uphold the pureblood beliefs of child-rearing." Murmurs of relief spread across the Wizengamot members at this statement.

"Have you contacted Harry Potter recently?"

Brockling nodded, whilst shifting in his seat. "Yes, so that I could gain permission to open his file to the Aurors."

"How is he?"

Brockling smiled widely, "He's much better, so much in fact that I would hardly recognise the boy I saw as the one I met last year. His personality is much lighter; he hardly flinches at noises and more importantly he is happy. He is now a healthy weight, and his wounds have completely disappeared, in fact the only way someone would know of his past life is if they saw his scars which I am afraid will never heal."

"So,in your opinion, how do his adoptive parents treat him?"

"Like he is a gift from Magic herself, they treasure him like any parent should do to their child."

* * *

><p>"Samael," Andras called upon spotting the Lestrange, said Slytherin only glance up from his dusty tome and graced the Ravenclaw with a raised eyebrow. Andras beamed at the boy, slung his arm around Ginny's shoulder and ushered his other two companions forward. "We were looking for information regarding the Autumn Equinox, but we can't seem to find any, and since I know that you're a fountain of all knowledge-" he trailed off, smiling a winning smile as Samael's eyebrows only rose further into his hairline.<p>

Two of his companions shifted uncomfortably under Samael's gaze, whilst the third stared wide-eyed at the shelves behind the Lestrange; Andras' smile never faltered in the slightest.

"Very well. "A soft sigh escaped the Lestrange as he closed his book. "Take a seat then," he declared, lazily waving a hand at the chairs. Andras immediately sat opposite him and Samael spared the three girls a meaningful stare. "All of you."

Andras shot up in his seat. "Oh! How rude of me. Samael this is Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and I think you already know Hermione," he murmured, the Gryffindor witch nodded. "Guys, this is Samael Lestrange."

Hermione nodded once more at the boy, holding his amused glance with one of exasperation, whilst Ginny smiled shakily at him and ducked away. "It's wonderful meeting you, the Blubbering Higgleons have been whispering about you and the current headlines, they are very pleased with your actions." the blonde girl whispered, her silver eyes wide.

"Luna, these Blubbering Higgleons aren't real," the bushy-haired witch attempted to reason, but Luna merely smiled pityingly at her and shared a conspirational look with the Lestrange.

Surprisingly, Samael smiled. "I am glad that the Blubbering Higgleons are pleased," he murmured, inclining his head at the girl "It is an honour to meet one such as yourself, Miss Lovegood. Now how may I be of assistance?"

The two Gryffindors couldn't hide their shock at Samael's politeness, whilst Andras beamed at them all. "The Autumn Equinox, Samael."

Samael's lips twitched. "I am afraid to say that you have missed it, Andras."

Andras sighed the sigh of an old man, and collapsed further down in his chair. "I _know _that, Samael. But we couldn't have celebrated it at school unless we went into the forest, and Hermione and Ginny weren't too keen on that idea-"

"Hmmm? The thestrals would have loved to see us," Luna declared with a rather put out expression, "Though the wrackspurts were rather excited in September and we all would have ended up terribly confused. And oh dear, it seems as though you have several swarming around you, Samael."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to interrupt, but Andras motioned for her to stop.

"I see," Samael murmured and his dancing emerald eyes locked upon hers.

"Do you?" her tone curious, despite the hardness that had entered her eyes. Samael only spared her a genuine smile.

"Yes." the answer was short and simple, and the blonde witch smiled once again. "As for the equniox, well the whomping willow is the only reasonable suggestion I can think of."

"Of course!" Hermione burst out, glaring as Samael raised an eyebrow at her. "Hardly anyone goes near the whomping willow, and if we stood on the other side, no-one could see us from the castle!"

Samael ignored the appraising glance Andras sent his way, Ginny however, did not and pulled on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on; let's find some information on the ritual." No-one commented on how the witch's eyes lighted with excitement at that suggestion.

"I will assist you," Luna called after the two Gryffindors, "The wrackspurts are circling around Samael at the moment," she paused, "It's best to rid of them."

"She is an interesting one," Samael murmured after the blonde witch; Andras merely smiled in agreement. Emerald eyes danced with amusement. "What is it you truly came to me for, Andras?"

Amber eyes hardened in response, his usually carefree face fixed into one of concern. "Father wishes to see you," he paused as if to assess the Slytherin's reaction. "Wizengamot have reached a decision."

Samael stiffened in his seat, emerald eyes frigid and face impassive. "Is that so?" His voice high and foreign, even to his own ears. "I suppose I will visit him then. Thank you for the message, Andras," Samael's words cold, and without a word he left the room.

Andras cursed quietly to himself, and picked up the book Samael had left behind. 'Hogwarts Alumini' and there smiling a wide predatory smile from the page was someone who he recognised from photographs his father had shown him. 'Tom Riddle' the name read. "Lord Voldemort." His face paled with realisation as the book slipped from his fingers. "Ginny."

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy prided himself on the fact that hardly anything could surprise him, not even when he discovered that Remus Lupin was a werewolf who gave birth to a son, however this attribute that he prided himself on always disappeared when with Samael. Samael, the boy who turned his entire world on its axis and made it revolve around him, so that Draco could not live a day without seeing the boy by his side. Or how his shining emerald eyes would shimmer with anger or how that perfect, pale cupid bow he called lips would purse with-<p>

'_Wait – perfect,__ pale cupid bow?'_

Somehow even repeating those words didn't make them any less wrong to him. He filed that piece of information away for study at a later date.

Anyway, the fact that Samael could always shake Draco's earth was the reason why the blonde wizard was currently staring at him with wide silver eyes. Samael was _crouched _upon the dirty flagstone floor, knees hugged to his chest, and _tears_ staining his pale face. Walking cautiously towards his friend, he placed a delicate hand upon his shoulder. Samael recoiled at the touch, his pupils blown so wide only the merest tinge of emerald could be seen.

"D-Draco?" he questioned. Draco's shocked face contorted into one of worry and anger, how dare someone make his precious Samael cry?

"What happened, Samael? What's wrong?"

"It's the Potters, the trial, they've been-" he faltered, as new tears escaped his eyes. Draco's hand faltered slightly upon the boy's shoulders. _'Damn the consequences, Samael _needs _me,'_ the thought raced across his mind, as he pulled the boy into his arms, so that Samael's face was pressed into his neck whilst his arms fell limply by their sides.

"What about the Potters? Did," he stopped to search for the words, "Did they go free?" He felt Samael shake his head 'no', and those arms clutched at the back of his robes whilst warm tears dampened his shoulder.

"They've been sentenced. Five years in Azkaban, three for good behaviour," the words were stronger, yet Draco only tightened his grip on the smaller Slytherin.

"That's good, isn't it? They'll never hurt you again, Samael, I will never let them, you hear?" he asked gently, smiling when he felt the boy nod. "No-one shall ever hurt you again, I promise." The vehement vow was whispered into Samael's ear, as he attempted to not enjoy the feel of Samael in arms.

"Thank you." The words barely audible but Draco heard them nonetheless, and the silly grin on his face could light the skies. Samael shifted in his arms so that his back was to Draco's chest whilst he rested between his legs; something in Draco warmed at this action. Was there a chance that he liked Samael more than he should? Probably, but with Samael in his arms, he just could not bring himself to care.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry for the late update guys, RL definitely caught me up. My dad went into intensive care, then he was in the normal wards for two weeks (he's out now though) and then my sister went into labour! Gods, anyway I hope this chapter makes up for it. Ta-ta! :)


	21. Journals, Polyjuice and Prejudice

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Journals, Polyjuice and Prejudice.<strong>

_If there's a way, that you can be;_

_Everything you want to be;_

_Would you complain that it came to you too easily?_

_Our Broken Hearts - Lostprophets_

* * *

><p>Draco eyed his friend from over his goblet. Samael was engaged in conversation with Daphne Greengrass; the latter of which seemed to be animatedly engrossed in whatever the topic matter was, whilst Samael's mouth was curling into that smirk he loved to bless the populace with.<p>

Swirling the goblet in his hand, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Samael, he contemplated the night before. Samael had stayed ensconced within Draco's arms for at least a further ten minutes, they shared neither verbal assurance, nor did they _'Merlin forbid' _snuggle, but the blonde liked to think that he offered Samael some comfort for the confusion he was undoubtedly feeling.

'_Five years? How little that seems in comparison to the torture Samael endured!' _pale fingers clenched white around the goblet stem. _'Though I suppose with Dumbledore as Head of Wizengamot it is a blessing they received that much, but how I would love to give them what Samael received.'_

Speaking of the Headmaster, he was currently sitting like a rather unpleasant centrepiece at the Head Table, locked in a furious debate with Professor McGonagall. The new _'or should that be returning?' _Charms Professor – Filius Flitwick – was sitting aside the Deputy Headmistress shooting self-satisfied smirks to Dumbledore. _'Well isn't that interesting?'_

Draco idly noted that Robert Potter hadn't dared to show his face at breakfast. The Prophet had eagerly been received by both staff and student alike, and he didn't dare tempt the anger of the aghast crowds, especially since large photos of the abused Harry Potter were emblazoned across the front page. The blonde was pretty sure he could still hear Pansy Parkinson's diatribe despite being halfway down the table from her, as she vehemently declared her hatred of the Potter parents.

"Draco?" Samael's soft voice called, and silver eyes immediately flew to Samael's emeralds. "May I speak with you outside?" Draco swiftly agreed, and the two of them made their way to an empty classroom. Inquisitive silver eyes peered at Samael as he perched himself upon a desk.

Draco withheld a huff of exasperation when instead of talking about whatever he wished to speak about, Samael decided to take an avid interest in the notes at the front of the room. "Is there something you wanted, Samael?" the question was airy, yet he was sure Samael heard the impatience.

Samael glanced up, his milky complexion brightening as his cheeks flushed red. _'Merlin, I don't think I've ever seen him blush.'_ Hopping off the desk, he approached his friend whose emerald eyes were guarded. "Samael?" he didn't dare touch the Lestrange, or attempt to renew the physical closeness they felt only hours before; Draco doubted it would be appreciated.

Clouded eyes cleared, and Samael's gimlet stare was fixed on the blonde, (Draco would never tell, but the flush on Samael's cheeks combined with that stare only made him look adorable). "I wish to thank you."

Draco's face morphed into one of confusion. "Whatever for?" the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

It was Samael's turn to look confused. "For last night," he murmured, the words staining his cheeks even further. "For…comforting me when I was in such a despicable state."

"It was what any frie-" Draco stopped his sentence, when he realised that _he _was the only friend the Lestrange had, (and if a wave of satisfaction met that thought, then he wouldn't bother upon it), so instead he smiled softly. "You're welcome, Samael, that is what I am here for."

A carefully sculpted eyebrow rose at this. "You meant to say, that your sole purpose on this earth is to be my shoulder to cry on?" His amusement was evident in his dancing eyes, and upturned lips.

Draco wasn't as humorous. "Amongst other things, yes." His voice was serious and steadfast. _'I see that you weren't expecting that, my dear Samael,' _he mused as Samael's mouth opened and then closed silently. Glancing upon the look of utter shock on the Lestrange, Draco pondered. _'__How shall I prove my affections? Perhaps, it is too early to think of such matters, considering that you are ill-acquainted with friendship. I shall simply monopolise your time then; I shall not lose you to some mongrel ill-deserving of your attention.'_

Regaining his composure, Samael inclined his head at Draco, and left the room without a word. Draco loped after the Lestrange in a graceful stride. "Potions begin in half an hour," the blonde announced after a glance to the gigantean hour-glass aside the castle entrance and he hid is grin as Samael relaxed at the normalcy of the conversation.

"Shall we go see Severus then? Undoubtedly, he will wish for some company before the dunderheads arrive." Samael acerbically drawled in a perfect imitation of the Potions Master. Draco only shook his head in amusement, and matched his stride to Samael's.

"Yes, I would hate it if Severus was to tear his beautiful hair out in frustration," Draco easily replied.

"Such a shame that would be," Samael agreed, smiling good-naturedly at the blonde. Draco counted it a success that their banter was restored to its usual state, and a satisfied smirk wormed its way onto his face.

A comfortable silence reigned between the two of them as they traversed the bowels of the castle, the only noise reaching their ears being the slap of their dragon-hide shoes against the flagstone floors.

"Samael! Draco!" a familiar voice frantically called from ahead, and the two Slytherins saw Andras sprinting towards them, a book clutched firmly in his hand.

"Andras?" the worried question flew from his lips before he could stop it. "What has got you so bothered?"

The Ravenclaw's breath was laboured when he caught up to them, and he leant unceremoniously against Samael. "Here," he declared, thrusting the book under Samael's nose. "It's your brother's." Emerald and silver eyes widened alike, their gaze flitting between the book and the panting first-year.

Samael recovered first as he took the offered book, and opened the cover. Sharp, intense, eyes pierced into the Snape. "How did you come across this?"

Andras offered a quirky grin, but his concern showed through the teeth gnawing his lower lip. "Ginny found it in the Library in September, I didn't realise it was your brother's 'til I remembered his name."

'_Well, isn't this day turning into one of wonders?'_

Samael nodded sharply at the younger boy, but his eyes were still staring at the book. "There's something else," and it was the worry in the boy's voice, that had Samael deeming him with a small grin. "Ginny said that he…that is your brother has been replying to what she's been writing. I…I think he's put magic in there so that it's sentient," Both of the Slytherins' eyebrows shot into their hairline at this. "She…she said that he taught her a word in parseltongue so that he could be reunited with his snake…"

'_Oh Merlin,'_ Draco paled, his eyes shooting to Samael's. "The basilisk." The Lestrange only nodded in agreement, before his expression schooled into one Draco recognised as thought.

"Self-inking quill," came the brisk command, as he placed his hand out in Draco's direction; Draco swiftly complied. Following after the Lestrange, Draco and Andras both stared at the other boy's back, as he leant the book into the wall and wrote his calligraphic scrawl on the page.

_Hello._

The words only lasted for seconds before they were absorbed into the parchment, completely vanishing before their eyes. A short while later and the reply came, the handwriting shockingly similar to that of the Lestrange.

_Hello. You are not Ginny; may I enquire into your identity?_

Draco peeked at his friend's face; it was still drilled into the look of concentration.

_My name is Samael Lestrange, do you recognise the name?_

Draco scoffed at the words, _'Everyone knows of a Lestrange,' _Samael gave him a withering look over his shoulder, but it seemed as if the Dark Lord had similar thoughts.

_I am acquainted with an Alphard Lestrange, certainly, but I do not recognise your name, I am sorry. Are you a relation of his?_

"How can that be?" Draco heard himself asking, "You are his magical brother, he surely knows of you."

Andras appeared thoughtful. "Unless this diary…book was created before he met you, which would make sense since Ginny says she found it in the library, and let's be honest, when was the last time your brother was at Hogwarts?"

Draco refrained from mentioning that it was only a couple of months ago that the Dark Lord was teaching them Defence against the Dark Arts.

"In that case, the magic in this book is from my brother when he was a student here…" Samael trailed off, and Draco recognised the expression as his 'devious planning' face. _'Well,' _Draco thought to himself, as the Lestrange stalked into the Potions classroom_ 'It is safe to say that things are going to get interesting.'_

* * *

><p>Frigid eyes swivelled at the sound of the door opening, before they softened ever so slightly in understanding. The furious form of Bellatrix Lestrange came striding into the room, the crumpled form of the Daily Prophet suffering in her hand, and only seconds passed before Rodolphus followed after.<p>

"My Lord," the words were apologetic, as he glanced between said Lord, and his wife.

Voldemort relaxed in his chair, as he dropped the quill upon the desk. "Ah, Bellatrix, Rodolphus. I take it that you have read this morning's paper?"

Rodolphus managed a small nod, as he attempted to calm Bellatrix down by pulling her into a hug.

"Only five years!" the witch fumed, her curled hair flaring in all directions in response to her infamous temper. "Those…those…_bastards_!" she struggled in her husband's arms. "They deserve life, or evisceration! Not five years!"

"I am aware, Bella," the smooth cultured voice of the Dark Lord rang in the room. "However, the sooner the Potters are released, the sooner they can be at our mercy."

His placating words were lost on the woman. "They should either be at my mercy now, or with the Dementors for life, there should be none of this dilly-dallying!"

Blue eyes watched as the other wizard whispered futile reassurances to his wife, yet the woman only wriggled herself out of Rodolophus's arms with a well-aimed kick, and continued her pacing.

"And _Dumbledore_," she seethed, "How dare he assist them!" her blazing eyes wild with their intensity. "I'll murder him; I'll tear the man limb from limb, gauge his eyes out and gorge on his blood!"

"Bella!" Rodolphus commanded, whilst attempting to surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, but the witch caught the movement and whipped her own wand out.

"Confringo!" the red jet of light was aimed at Rodolphus's head before he could defend himself, and he only just managed ducked in time.

Indignant hazel eyes burned into Rodolphus's face.

The Dark Lord leant further back in his seat, watching the couple with amused eyes.

Rodolphus paled drastically. "I…" clearing his throat, he glanced hurriedly around the room. "I…I was just trying to prevent you from making a fool of yourself in front of Our Lord." His eyes were clearly beseeching the man to save him; the Dark Lord thought that it was one of the more humorous images he had seen.

Bella whirled on her feet, a saccharine sweet smile fixed on her face. "Forgive me my Lord, am I bothering you?"

The smirk on the Dark Lord's face only grew in size, as he waved a hand airily. "Not at all, Bella, I do believe you are expressing our feelings quite thoroughly on this matter," his eyes gleaming, "My brother, _your _son deserves more justice than a measly five years in Azkaban."

Bella was nodding eagerly at her Lord's words, aiming a glare at her husband. Rodolphus scowled at his wife, his own hazel eyes darkening with anger as he shot forward and grabbed her by the arms.

"Samael is my son too! Must I always remind you of this?" Rodolphus's words were sharp, as he stared steadfastly at his wife. "Of course I want the Potters to rot in Azkaban, more than that I wish to tear their bodies apart, but I _can't_." His shoulders were shaking with emotions the Dark Lord recognised as anger and resignation. "It's damned politics. Dumbeldore has more power than we do."

"B…But we have Our Lord!" the witch cried, her eyes wide in innocent naiveté as she looked into the crumpled face of her husband. The Dark Lord frowned at the sight, his inner-circle, and parents to _his _brother should _not _be upset.

"Unfortunately, what Rodolphus says is true, Bellatrix," he sighed heavily, and propped his head upon his hands. "There is nothing we can do until I have regained my body and, therein, my full powers."

The witch slumped in defeat, a look of pure devastation upon her face. "What can we do then?"

The Dark Lord's lips pursed in irritation. "Presently we can do nothing but plan,"

The Lestranges's nodded painfully, before sharp eyes met his. "Are you aware of a way to return to your body?"

Tilting his head to the side, the Dark Lord gazed at the two before him. "Yes I am, however I need to reacquaint myself with the specifics of the ritual, and for that I need Samael's help." The Dark Lord pushed away from the desk, and stood on his feet. "We shall discuss this in more detail when Samael comes home for Yule, until then, I shall owl him."

"My Lord, do you have any idea how Samael took the news?" the Dark Lord couldn't help the small smile of assurance that slipped onto his face; Bellatrix always was his favourite Death Eater after all.

"Severus flooed me just this morning, he said that Samael seemed to take the news well, however when he went on his patrols he came across Samael slumped on the floor," a gasp of pain escaped the witch. "However, the young Malfoy heir had found him and was comforting him; Severus said they looked most content."

The relieved smile on Bellatrix's face quickly formed into a suggestive smirk, and as he exited the room, he clearly heard the poor witch's husband vehemently declare that Bellatrix should 'stop trying to marry our only son off to Lucius' boy! He isn't even a teenager yet!'

* * *

><p>"What is that book you're always reading, Samael?" Draco asked, placing his own book down as he crossed his ankles. "I always see you reading it."<p>

Emerald eyes glanced over the top of the spine. "It is a family heirloom, Dragon." Samael glanced quickly around at his fellow Slytherins, though none were looking at the two second-years on the Chesterfield sofas. "From my brother's side."

Blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before they brightened in realisation. "You don't mean…" Trailing off, he made a pointed look towards the silent portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Samael only smirked in reply.

Breathing out, the Malfoy grinned. "That is splendid! Anything interesting?"

Samael glanced at his friend, stood to his feet, and sat down beside the blonde. Draco only smiled invitingly at Samael. "My brother asked me to read about Raiph Black…who seems to have documented every day of his life."

Draco sniffed, "How tedious." Samael only nodded his agreement, as he turned the page. "Why don't you just take the book to your brother?"

Samael glared at his friend, "Do you not think I would do that if I could?" he questioned, huffing as the blonde only grinned. "No, the journal has a charm on it so that it cannot leave the common room. Salazar Slytherin wished for _all _his descendants to access their heritage, not just his direct descendants."

Draco grimaced. "Sounds horrendous, Samael. Did he give you a specific thing to look for?" the question asked casually, as he placed an arm over the back of the sofa.

The raven glanced at the hand above his shoulder, before turning back to the page, missing the smirk of achievement on the blonde's face. "He is after a ritual, however any seemingly innocuous detail may prove useful."

Draco's eyebrows rose, and his smirk only grew as Samael relaxed into the cushions, so that his mass of black curls rested almost in the crook of Draco's shoulder. "How tedious, how about your brother's diary….I mean journal? Have you discovered the mystery behind it?"

"Yes, it is merely an imprint of his magic."

Draco grunted in confusion.

"He siphoned off a portion of his magic into the journal. As a result his magic is 'living' and has manifested itself as the most recent memories his school-self had."

"So he's reliving the same memory over and over?" A brisk nod from Samael, and Draco moaned in disgust. "How terrible! The poor man…boy…you know what I mean."

Snorting at the blonde's attitude, Samael replied. "I will return it back to him at Yule, however Quirrel's magical reserves are infinitesimal compared to my brother's, so the journal will have to remain in its current state for a while."

Draco only mourned for the Dark Lord, before an idea struck him. "Does that book tell you where the Chamber is?"

"It's whereabouts have been mentioned, however the castle has been modified since the original construction, so I only have a vague estimation."

Draco frowned in thought. "Have you heard any more from the Basilisk? Perhaps, she could give you directions."

A look of sadness flashed across Samael's face, and Draco absently stroked his thumb down the Lestrange's cheek. "She is in too much pain to be comprehensible, these petrifications are not intentional," he stated firmly. "I shall ask my brother at Yule for further details."

The blonde only nodded at his friend, before the feel of Samael so close to him swept him away in a buzz of contentedness.

* * *

><p>Weeks passed by quickly, as snow blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts, and winter encompassed the school. The cold biting wind of December had swept through the castle, causing many of its victims to huddle around the fires of their common rooms and the delightful warmth of Professor Lockhart's classroom.<p>

Dusk had settled early at the early minutes past four in the evening, the last class of the day had just ended, and many students were trailing towards their dorms. However, if one was to walk down an abandoned corridor on the ground floor, they would discover the form of a laughing Samael Lestrange being roughly shoved from a classroom by a pair of skinny, pale arms.

"Oh Merlin!" the raven declared, as he bent double over his cane due to his laughter. "That's the funniest thing I've ever seen, mate!"

"Shut up!" The horrified falsetto sounded from the classroom, and Samael only laughed further.

"Alright, alright," Samael huffed between guffaws, as he began his journey down the corridor. "I'm just gonna go now then, bye!" Samael only snickered at the muffled 'good riddance' following after him.

Samael made short work of his trip to the dungeons, his limp absent as he carried his cane through the abandoned corridors. "Bollocks!" A group of third-year Slytherins were chatting outside the common room, and Samael quickly placed his cane back upon the ground.

"It's Lestrange, quick get the door!" one of the Slytherins whispered, and a look of confusion crossed Samael's face, before it was removed.

"Good evening," the group called to the second-year as he approached them, Samael only glanced at the tallest of the boys holding open the door. Nodding at the group, he spared a quiet 'thank you' before striding into the common room.

Wide emerald eyes darted around the dark, ornate room, before they settled upon the blonde child lounging upon a leather sofa, with a rather worried looking Parkinson beside him. Lengthening his stride, Samael moved towards the Malfoy. A relieved smile stretched the blonde's face, and Samael jerked in surprise at the reaction to his presence. "Parkinson. Malfoy," he murmured stiffly.

The blonde's head tilted to the side in confusion, and his smile faltered. "Samael?" his tone questioning, as his silver gaze searched the Lestrange's face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, Mal… I mean D…Draco," the raven stuttered, before perching himself upon the sofa. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I haven't seen you since Charms ended, and you said that you were going to start on our Potions assignment tonight. Speaking of which, have you seen Zabini? Parkinson has been looking for him" Parkinson leant forward in her seat, her eyes bright and red-rimmed.

"Y-Yes, he said he'd got a meeting with McGon…Professor McGongall about his Transfiguration essay. Something about his wand movement."

Parkinson's face morphed into a frown, and Draco's eyes narrowed upon Samael. "That's strange, considering Transfiguration is Zabini's strongest subject," Draco stated, his gaze bearing into Samael.

"Strange? Yes, I thought so too, I thought maybe he was sneaking off to cop off with some girl," Samael explained, with a rather strained smile. Parkinson flinched at the words, and Draco gave her a minute shake of the head.

Smiling hesitantly at the blonde, she asked. "Did you hear that Boot was attacked this morning? Tracy Davies heard it from Hannah Abbot at lunch, the poor boy."

"That Hufflepuff boy hasn't recovered from that beast though has he? Who would let such a creature attack students?!" Samael eagerly asked, shooting forward on the sofa.

A sculpted eyebrow rose into Draco's hairline. "I wasn't aware that a beast had been attacking the students, I thought it was some terrible prank."

"No, you're wrong! Slytherin's beast is the one attacking students," Samael protested, glaring at the blonde.

"If you say so, Samael, I would hate to disagree with you."

"Slytherin's heir is the only one who can control the beast though, who do you think it is?" Samael impatiently asked, as he began to tap his foot against the floor. Draco glanced at the movement, then at the cane laying abandoned on the floor, and his frown only deepened.

Parkinson stared at the raven, her eyes widening in surprise. "But everyone knows that Slytherin's heir is You-Know-Who!"

"So, I guess it must be a prank since You-Know-Who is dead. On another note, how is your mother faring, Samael?" he asked casually, "Dragon pox is horrendous to have." Parkinson nodded at the blonde's words, a moue of disgust upon her face.

"Oh, she's doing well. The healer said that she should recover within the week," Samael stated with another strained smile.

Draco smiled a predatory smile, his pearly-white canines flashing the Lestrange, as he leant forward to touch Samael's knee. "That's a relief to hear, _Samael_, considering Aunt Bellatrix is as healthy as ever. _Stupefy_!" Before Samael could react, he was bound to the sofa with a swift _incarcerous._

Wide emerald eyes watched fearfully as the blonde stood to his feet, (Parkinson following with a disdainful sniff), and pointed his finger at the closest first-year. "You! Pertwee! Fetch Professor Snape," his frightening smile stretching further across his face. "We have an imposter."

The atmosphere darkened in the room, as Slytherins of all ages crowded around the fake 'Samael', sneers and baleful glares fixed upon their faces. No-one crossed the Snakes Den without permission, or threatened one of their own unless they were willing to face severe punishments.

As the small first-year returned, with the furious form of Severus Snape storming beside him, the tension increased tenfold. The black-clad man stopped affront of Draco; his tall form towered over the second-year, yet he met the eyes of a person with equal status. Lucius would be proud.

"Speak, Draco," the Potions Master commanded, after a penetrating gaze to the bound imposter.

The blonde inclined his head, straightened his back and lifted his chin. "Samael and Blaise Zabini were due for our potions assignment with myself and Pansy Parkinson, however they did not shown up, which is most irregular. Then this…this _person_ appeared, he was limping with the wrong foot, and was using his damaged ankle as if it was healthy," the blonde took a breath, and hurried on with his evaluation.

"He said that Zabini had a meeting with Professor McGonagall due to difficulty in her class, however Transfiguration is his strongest subject, then he fell into a trap when I asked about his mother's health, _plus_ Samael never uses contractions, yet this _thing's _speech is full of them."

"I see," Severus whispered, his voice carrying in the silence of the room. "Well done, Mr Malfoy, for your astute observation. However two of our own are missing,"

"Sir, shall I fetch the Headmaster?" a fifth-year asked, her eyes merciless as she glared at the imposter.

"That would be appreciated, Miss Foster, you have my permission to use the flood powder," the girl nodded, and quickly complied to the man's command. "Now, onto the mystery of who our delightful guest is," his voice a dangerous purr, "I had wondered what dunderhead would dare steal my polyjuice. _Two _flasks are absent, as are _two _of my Slytherins, now tell me you pathetic flobberworm, where are my Snakes, who is your accomplice, and what is your name?"

"Now Severus," an admonishing voice called from the fireplace, causing said man to grit his teeth and glare as the imposter breathed a relieved sigh. "Stop interrogating the child."

"Albus," Severus greeted stiffly, spinning upon his heel to face the Headmaster. "This _child_ and his accomplice have taken two of my Slytherins and have _stolen _from my personal stores."

"Polyjuice?" the elder wizard mused, "Well the effects should be wearing off soon, why don't we just wait?"

The dour Potions Master glared at the suggestion, but acquiesced nonetheless. "Fine, however I will be alerting Lords and Ladies Lestrange and Zabini of this _disgrace_. I am quite certain that they will become most involved if suitable punishment is not administered."

The genial smile on the Headmaster did not falter in the least. "Of course, Severus. Ho! Look I can see some red hair coming through right now!" the white-haired wizard declared.

Instantly whispers of the 'Weasley twins' broke out amongst the students, however as the potion's effects began to fade, the stature of the imposter was much too small to be a fifth-year student. The red hair darkened into auburn, and Samael's face morphed into that of Robert Potter.

Severus' glared witheringly at the Gryffindor, whilst a mocking smile crossed his lips. "Mr Potter, why did I not guess that _you _would be the one to attempt such an idiotic move? Fifty points from Gryffindor"-

The Potter's face mottled in a mixture of anger and indignation. "That's not fair!"

"Sixty points, Mr Potter," he drawled, "And if you do not inform me where Samael Lestrange and Blaise Zabini are, then you shall be facing expulsion."

The Potter gasped, eyes swimming in denial as he faced his only ally – Dumbledore. "Sir, please, he can't expel me!"

The Headmaster only cast a disappointed look on the Potter. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that you shall be expelled if you refuse to give the whereabouts of your year-mates," nodding sadly at the crestfallen sobs from the child. "You received a disciplinary warning last year by allowing a troll into school, this escapade only strengthens my belief that you are willingly endangering the lives of my students."

"I'm sorry! Sorry! They're just down the corridor! Please don't expel me, Sirius'll kill me!"

The elderly wizard retrieved his wand from his voluminous robes. "Finite Incanteum," the Headmaster released the Gryffindor from the spell, and directed him towards the door. Severus and Draco followed. "Now Mr Potter, lead us to Messeurs Zabini and Lestrange, and your accomplice. Mr Ronald Weasley, I presume?"

A sullen nod of the head met the question. "Yessir."

"And why is he not with you? You took enough potion."

Strangely, the Gryffindor blushed to the roots of his hair, and every single eye was on him. "He…ah…that is…We thought that we had Zabini's hair, but it wasn't his… it was…" the Potter faltered, and Draco grinned roguishly at the boy.

"Ha! Gods, he took one of Parkinson's hairs. Weasley turned himself into a girl!" Draco crowed, before a furious look from Severus stopped him. "Serves him right, though," the blonde grumbled quietly. "How _dare _he harm Samael!"

"I understand your sentiments, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore stated quietly, the twinkle noticeable in his watery blue eyes. "However, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley shall be punished for their actions, have no fear." The Malfoy sneered at the Headmaster's back, and scowled at the Potter leading the way.

"They're in there with Ron," the Gryffindor declared, jerking his bound hands in the direction of an old Charms classroom. With that, Severus stalked to the front, and rapped loudly three times.

"Open up, Mr Weasley, lest you face expulsion alongside Mr Potter," the Lion gasped in outrage, his face clearly showing the betrayal he felt. "Both yours and Mr Potter's academic career depend upon your decision."

Shuffling could be heard from the room, alongside a nervous incomprehensible muttering.

"Ron! Open up this damned door!" Robert screamed, and immediately faced the angered face of the Potions Master.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your language, Mr Potter. Cease your speaking." Severus turned and addressed the Weasley again. "Mr Weasley, open this door immediately!"

The door cracked open a slither and a shamefaced Ronald Weasley stepped from the room, his face burning from his roots to his neck. "Sorry sirs," he mumbled, but the Potions Master and Malfoy only pushed passed him to find his Slytherins.

Dumbledore placed a wrinkled hand upon his shoulder. "You made the correct decision, my boy," he gently said, yet all Ronald could see was Severus Snape casting diagnostic spells over Lestrange and Zabini, whilst Malfoy gently brushed a lock of the stupefied Lestrange's hair out of his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Filius," the affectionate call, had the half-goblin spinning in his precariously high chair to face the warm hazel eyes of Minerva McGonagall. Unbidden, a soft smile spread his features, pushing his snow moustache so close to his nostrils that he sneezed at the sensation.<p>

Warm laughter met this action, and he couldn't help but join her at his expense. "Minerva!" the name was squeaked with happiness, as he floated himself to the ground. "We haven't spoken since I first arrived, how good it is to see you again!"

Yes, I am so glad that you have come out of retirement," she declared, faltering as she took in the angry face of her old friend.

Cheeks puffed red in anger; the half-goblin tightened his shaking fists. "_Retirement?_ The old fool had me sacked because I demanded that he return a stolen object!"

Minerva flung her head back as if smacked, her nostrils flaring in response. "Stolen object? Albus has stolen?" her voice incredulous as she took in the piercing blue eyes of her friend.

"No, no, no," the professor quickly assured, whilst flinging his arms in the air. "But he has a stolen object in his possession, and when I told him to return it to its rightful owners he told me to leave the school."

"Did you not tell the owners where the object is? They could have taken it to the aurors." The bitter laughter which escaped the Charms Professor shocked the witch.

"The aurors never would have taken the case seriously, Minerva! The object belongs to the Goblins, the aurors wouldn't have investigated, so there is nothing the Goblins can do. If they try to take it back by force, then they'll only be arrested. Contrary to what Cuthbert* says, the Goblins do not want another war," here the white-haired professor's face crumpled into dismay. "It just isn't _fair_!"

Minerva refrained from comparing the charms professor to a toddler having a tantrum."Albus still has it? What is it anyway?"

Filius pursed his lips. "It's the sword of Gryffindor."

"Filius, everyone knows that the Godric's sword was given to him by the Goblins for his aid with the Jewel Crisis," Minerva's tone was soft yet reprimanding. Filius immediately flushed red, his moustache twitching as his mouth gaped with indignation.

The charms professor looked as if he was to protest, but a soft rapping at the door had them both staring comically wide-eyed to the open doorway. "Actually Professor McGonagall, if I may be so bold to say, you are incorrect," Andras Snape murmured respectfully, his amber eyes roving the classroom with interest. "Godric Gryffindor _did _indeed steal the sword from Ragnuk the first during the Jewel Crisis, and the Goblins have been waiting for the day that it would be returned to them. From what I have read, it was quite close to the Goblins' heart."

Filius' smile looked like it could break his face. "Quite well said, and one of my own Eagles! Thank you, Mr…?" he trailed off, his sparkling blue eyes searching the boy's face. "Sorry, but I haven't gotten around to learning everyone's names yet."

Andras inclined his head at the half-goblin. "Snape. Andras Snape, first-year Ravenclaw, sir."

Filius wheeled backwards in surprise, his grin only widening further. "Severus' boy? I didn't know he had a child, well; it is a pleasure to meet you, Andras Snape. Tell me, how is it you came across this information, most people are under the same mind-set as Professor McGonagall."

Andras allowed a smile to flit across his face. "My dad has a great interest in the rights of Magical beings, my father gave him a book about all the misconceptions of them as a courting gift years ago, and that interest has passed onto me. Of course, Samael also has an interest, and we have had quite a few conversations about the deplorable treatment of magical beings."

"I take it you are the product of your father's male pregnancy potion?" a small nod, and Filius smiled warmly. "Good, Severus has done remarkably well over the years. Is this 'Samael' a Ravenclaw also?"

"No, no. Samael…Samael Lestrange is a Slytherin, in the year above."

"I have second-year Slytherins last period today," Filius mused, brushing his moustache thoughtfully.

"Oh, Mr Lestrange is a remarkably bright child," Minerva stated, "He has always been top of his class, and disregards the inter-house rivalry, why I saw him chatting to Hermione Granger, Terry Boot and Hannah Abbot only the other day!"

"Oh, Terry and Hannah are struggling with their potions, and Samael offered them help; Hermione decided to assist him," came the explanation.

"Mr Snape, shouldn't you be outside on such a nice day?" Minerva asked, after taking a peek outside the tower window.

"Oh, my father wishes to see both you and Professor Flitwick in the Headmaster's office. _Robert Potter_," the name was spat with the same amount of vitriol the two had only ever heard his father say when speaking of James Potter. "Along with Ronald Weasley attacked Blaise Zabini and Samael, stole polyjuice potion from my father's supply, and snuck into the Slytherin common room. They are awaiting punishment."

Minerva's pursed lips, and flared nostrils were the only sign of her displeasure as she silently stalked from the classroom. Filius called a 'thank you' to the first-year before hurrying after Minerva.

"I cannot believe them!" the woman fumed, "I used to think that the _Marauders _were a harmless group, but this hatred they hold for Slytherins is ridiculous. First, they all tormented Severus, then Peter turned to You-Know-Who, James let Harry be horrifically abused, Sirius attempted to assault Victoria Effing, and _now _Robert Potter has attacked two Slytherins. It is not to be borne!"

Filius paused in his step. "What are you saying?"

Minerva stopped her furious stride, to stare into Filius' baby-blues. "I am saying we should follow Samael Lestrange's example and unite the Houses. Study groups, inter-house partners in classes, and so on, this rivalry is ridiculous. These prejudices must end."

"And what of the other prejudices? Against werewolves, vampires, giants, _goblins_?" Filius questioned.

"We shall see." The half-goblin thought it was the closest to revolutionary thinking he could achieve.

* * *

><p>Silver eyes glared at anyone daring to glance in Samael's direction, causing the raven-haired Slytherin to roll his eyes at his friend's behaviour. Ever since Potter and Weasley had stunned him from behind three days ago, Draco had become eccentrically over-protective; snapping and scowling at anyone who wasn't Severus, Andras or Madam Effing.<p>

Samael understood Draco's actions, after all, discovering that your best-friend had been kidnapped in one of the safest places in Magical Britain, would anger most people, (and if Samael was being honest with himself, he quite enjoyed having the blonde's attention solely on himself), however Draco was acting too much like an irritated bulldog for his liking.

"Dragon, stop staring at everyone, they are not going to harm me."

Piercing silver orbs searched the crowd, "I will not let it happen again, Samael," he gritted through his teeth. A pale finger tilted the blonde's chin downwards, so that they could speak on eye-level.

"Listen to me, Dragon. What happened is not your fault – no, do not interrupt. It is not your fault, you do not possess the ability to predict the future, nor can you predict other people's movements. So cease with your actions."

He did not intend for his voice to sound soothing or for his eyes to soften, but somehow both happened. Honestly, what did Draco do to him? "Do you understand what I am saying, Draco?"

Draco hesitated; he couldn't just instantly shake off his guilt or stop his protective nature, but…

"I will try." Samael's lips quirked at the answer, and Draco had to glance away from the strange feelings it evoked inside his stomach. "Do you see Andras anywhere?"

"He mentioned that Ginevra's parents were not happy about her ending the blood feud, and were waiting until she returned for Yule. I can only imagine that he is preparing her for the fight that is about to occur."

Draco frowned at Samael's words. "Whilst I understand her parent's sentiments, surely they must see this as a success? My Father was none too happy about my actions, however once he learned of Ginny's oath to never raise a wand, he acquiesced. Mother was pleased, she couldn't stand our complaints."

Samael's brows furrowed in thought. "I believe that is where the problem lays. Ginevra informed me that her father is always stating that one needs to have a wand prepared when around the Malfoys, he will be angry that he is being forced to pledge peace."

Draco scoffed. "As if we would even deem him worthy enough to bother cursing. Ginny isn't too bad though, I suppose, she has spunk and isn't prejudiced. I suppose this is what Mother was referring to when she spoke of the elder two sons being unlike their parents, they are in rather 'dark' careers after all."

"It is not our place to pry, Dragon," Samael chided softly, Draco only snorted in amusement.

"The hypocrisy in that sentence overwhelms me, Samael."

Samael smirked widely. "Be quiet, Dragon."

"Oh look, there are Granger's parents," the blonde stated, glancing at the neutral bushy-haired witch standing stiffly aside her and scowling parents. "And don't they look like loving parents? Muggles!" he spat the word venomously. "Can they not see the bright flame they have sired?"

"My my, Draco Malfoy defending a Muggleborn," Samael stated with a teasing lilt.

"Prat," Draco declared fondly, "It is like you said, she is too smart and powerful to ignore. I'm not going to sacrifice a worthy ally for my pride. Plus she's brilliant at Charms, and I actually understand the lesson amidst her lecturing." He airily declared, watching with narrowed eyes, as the Gryffindor's father took her roughly by the arm and pulled her through the gateway.

"I see our parents over there, Dragon, and oh," the Lestrange trailed off, staring at the shadowed figure aside the Lestrange and Malfoy parents. "My brother has appeared." Immediately, Draco searched the crowds to stare into dark eyes.

"Have you got his journal, Samael?" the blonde distractedly murmured, the Dark Lord was staring straight at him.

A small smirk appeared on Samael's face. "Yes, I believe it will make a wonderful Yule gift."

Draco nodded slowly, before whipping around to stare in horror at his friend. "That's impertinent, Samael. You can't do that!"

"Oh?" a raised eyebrow matched Samael's nonchalant tone. "I was under the belief that brothers were supposed to rile one another up."

Not when your brother is…is a wizard of your brother's calibre!" the blonde protested.

"Hmm? Never mind that, Dragon," Samael mused, looping his arm in the crook of a distracted Draco's elbow, as he led them towards their parents. "I believe that this Yule will be wonderful, don't you agree?" He flashed his sharp canines to Draco's face of pure unadulterated horror. "A wonderful Yule indeed."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I would like to send a huge thank you to the wonderful people who sent in lovely words to me. My father is on the mend, thank you, and my little nephew is a little terror.

Also, thank you for those of you who favourite/reviewed my Drarry fic – King of Cowards, it was very much appreciated!

Also, I apologise for the shoddy title and the random song, I couldn't think of anything fitting for the chapter!

Have a great day people!


	22. Yuletide Greetings Tom Riddle

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>Yuletide greetings Tom Riddle.<span>

_Ladies and gentlemen please,_

_Bring your attention to me._

_For a feast for your eyes to see,_

_An explosion of catastrophe._

_Ladies and Gentlemen - Saliva_

* * *

><p>"Just what do you think you were doing, young woman?!" the strong-headed Weasley matriarch demanded of her sullen-faced daughter. Ginevra Weasley's father – Arthur Weasley – was unusually stone-faced as he stared at the two witches. "Pledging to never raise your wand to the…<em>Malfoys<em>! Do you not understand what you've done? Your father had to give the same pledge, what if they try to attack us! People scorn us on the street; they view us as some filthy animals!"

The eleven year old girl glared at her mother, matching the woman's furious expression with her own. "Well perhaps if my great-grandfather hadn't have been a lying scoundrel of a rapist then you wouldn't have to be stared at!"

The young witch never saw the palm swinging at her, and her hazel eyes widened in shock, as the sharp sting spread across her cheek. Raising a hand shakily to her face, she gave her mother a disbelieving look.

"Do not disrespect your ancestors so!" the matriarch thundered, pointing a wooden spoon in the girl's face. "Your great-grandfather was a great man-"

Ginny's disbelieving stare only grew. "He _raped _a witch and never admitted to his crime, he was scum!"

"Ginevra Weasley!" Arthur boomed, "Do not dare to speak of my grandfather that way!"

"It's the truth!" the girl stubbornly persisted, glaring at her father.

"Yes, I bet it is," her mother sneered, jerking the spoon roughly at the girl. "You probably heard it from that Malfoy boy in Ronald's year, yes, I know all about your meetings with him!"

"Draco didn't even speak to me civilly until _after _I apologised, so he didn't tell me, I found out the truth myself!" the witch declared hotly. "And so what if we hang out together sometimes? We're not friends, but sometimes when Hermione, Andras, Luna and I are studying, Draco and Samael are studying too! It's not a crime!"

Molly snarled at her daughter. "Malfoys do not know the words 'innocent'! Everything they do is a crime, they're always plotting something evil!"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"I'm in half a mind to send you away, girl!" Ginny's hazel eyes watered at her mother's words. "Perhaps William or Charles can help give you sense, Merlin knows I can't!"

The young witch clenched her eyes tight, desperate to not let her mother see her cry.

Molly nodded at her thoughts, obviously reaching an agreement with herself. "I'm going to floo Charles tonight; you can sleep on his sofa until Hogwarts begins. Go wait in the kitchen, and be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!"

The fuming witch bustled around the living room, roughly yanking a handful of floo powder from the niche, whilst muttering about her 'ungrateful, vindictive child'.

* * *

><p>Tiled floors and marble pillars met the quartet's eyes as they appeared inside the Manor's entrance hall. Instantly the tallest man detached himself from the group and strode from the room, whilst the woman followed her husband with an annoyed smile on her face. Emerald eyes watched the two figures leave with curiosity, whilst the other man merely smirked at them.<p>

"A lover's tiff," Voldemort said as an explanation to Samael's questioning gaze, his smirk widening on his face. "Your father forgot their bonding anniversary, and your mother was…ah…let's just say your mother is not very impressed."

Samael winced in sympathy for Rodolphus, before shrugging. "He only brought it upon himself."

Chuckling, the Dark Lord nodded his agreement, and steered Samael into the sitting room. "Have you got the memories, little brother?" he questioned, seating himself on the large chaise, and directing the young wizard to join him. "I cannot stress how great of importance these memories are."

"You said that you did not wish to explain the importance of these memories in writing," Samael settles in an armchair. "So why are they so necessary?"

"These memories, little brother, contain the way to return me to my original body." Sharp emerald eyes locked onto the serious face of the Dark Lord. "So they are extremely important."

"I see," Samael paused, "I suppose you wish to review these memories this instant?" the Lestrange enquired, eyebrow rising at the silence from the other man.

Leaning forward in his seat, the Dark Lord rested his chin upon his steepled fingers. "No," he drew the word out, "I wish to spend time with my brother currently, _and then_ I shall watch the memories. I have spent nary eleven years out of my body; a few more moments shall not bother me."

The wide smile on the Dark Lord's face was quite disconcerting. "I see, did you have anything specific in mind for our _quality time_?"

"We could play gobstones, discuss Hogwarts, or perhaps," the predatory smile on the Dark Lord's face grew in intensity. "We could have a duel."

Samael matched the Dark Lord's smile with one his own shark-like grins, "Brother dearest," his simpering tone could rival that of Pansy Parkinson's, "That would be _terribly _unfair, considering the decades of experience and mastery you have in your repertoire."

The Dark Lord lazily flicked a curl from Samael's face. "Why little brother, we both know that those _extra-curricular _books you have been reading have taught you many curses."

Reclining, Samael batted the Dark Lord's hand away. "Yes, however reading is quite different than ability."

"And that," The Dark Lord caught Samael's hand, and pulled him onto his lap. "Is why you should duel, so that you can hone your skills."

"In that case, shouldn't I practise with someone on my skill level?"

"And how would you know where your level lies, if you do not duel with me?" the Dark Lord questioned, sending a winning smile in his brother's direction.

"And that is where you use magic. Golems, Auror training dummies, agility beams…"

"Oh be quiet! The both of you!" a feminine voice cried, as a stern-faced Bellatrix glided into the room. "You should behave! Samael you must duel your brother, _and_," she added seeing the protestation on Samael's face, and the satisfied smirk on the Dark Lord's. "You, My Lord, must not use any curses Samael does not yet know."

"Bellatrix!" The Dark Lord demanded, eyes narrowing at the steadfast look on the witches face. "You will not command me to do anything, you are _my _servant, I am not yours."

"Be that as it may," Bellatrix sat beside her son, "You cannot expect Samael to be on your skill level," Voldemort opened his mouth to protest, and the witch hurriedly continued, "And I know you would not be happy if you harmed your brother."

Without further word, the Dark Lord crossed his legs and glared at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the truth in Bellatrix's words.

"So," the witch broke the uncomfortable silence, "How was school, darling?"

A smirk stretched Samael's features at the question, and the Dark Lord immediately stared intently at his brother. "Well," at this, Samael crossed his ankles, and smiled widely. "Draco and I discovered a rather ill-kept secret." Pausing for effect, he leant forward. "There is a basilisk hidden in the bowels of Hogwarts."

Bellatrix's eyes widened, whilst a languid smirk crossed the Dark Lord's face. "Selina? I take it you discovered the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I have no idea where the Salazar's chamber is, brother, however she is loose in the castle." Samael informed Voldemort, watching as realisation dawned across the Dark Lord's face.

"She should be sleeping until either I or a paresltongue awakens her. She must be in great pain…" Samael's was surprised to see the grief painted across his brother's face.

"I have heard her screaming that her eyes hurt, brother, what is it that ails her?" Samael enquired softly.

"Selina was hatched in my sixth-year…" the Dark Lord faltered slightly. No-one commented on the hitch in the man's throat. "I bonded her to me as my familiar, I was in such a state to have found her that I did not research the bonding thoroughly enough. Any distance greater than the walls of Hogwarts pained her, the bond was punishing her, so in the end I put her into a dreamless sleep."

"And due to you not being in Hogwarts you couldn't revive her," Samael murmured in understanding.

Bellatrix frowned in confusion. "But you were in Hogwarts last year, why did you not get her then?"

The Dark Lord leant forward in his seat, a furious scowl fixed on his face, but it was Samael who answered his mother. "He would not have been able to stay with her for any long period of time," the twelve year old stated quietly, "She cannot leave Hogwarts grounds, and my brother here, is not able to stay in the castle if he wants to enact his plans. So why would he wake her, only to put her back to sleep?"

Bellatrix looked shamefaced at her son's reasoning, and voiced her profuse apologies to her Lord. Voldemort nodded stiffly, and turned his roving gaze to the youngest Lestrange.

"Are you aware of how Selina has awoken?" he asked. Worry for his familiar swiftly transforming into anger.

Frowning at his brother's words, Samael shifted in his seated to retrieve his wand, before performing _accio _with ease. Moments passed, before a brown-paper wrapped package came floating into the room. "I _was _intending for this to be your Yule gift, however I believe that I must give it to you currently," Samael announced, handing the package to the Dark Lord, who deftly unwrapped it.

Blue eyes widened in shock, before his face morphed into one of calculation. "The magic became sentient…" the Dark Lord murmured, trailing pale fingers across the leather-bound surface. "It possessed a student?"

Samael inclined his head. "I would not say that it _possessed _her, it is safer to say that it _persuaded _her. Your magic befriended her, advised her in political matters, and when it asked for a favour, she gladly returned it. She has no idea of what she has done."

"Who is she?" Voldemort's voice was dark and soft, yet Samael could see the anger lay with himself only.

"Miss Ginevra Weasley."

Raising an eyebrow, Voldemort steepled his fingers. "The girl who ended the blood feud?" Nodding at the Dark Lord, Samael smiled a smile of teeth. "Severus' son's friend?"

"Closest friend," Samael corrected idly, whilst lazily inspecting his nail bed.

"Interesting." The two brothers shared a look that spoke a thousand words. "This could prove useful," the Dark Lord murmured.

"After all," Samael continued, "Who would suspect one of the Weasleys to be a supporter of a controversial party."

"We are in agreement then?" Voldemort questioned, his tone clearly stating that he had already reached the conclusion.

"That you are going to re-enter the political arena?" The Dark Lord smirked predatorily, "Oh yes, none will know that the handsome party leader is none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort they feared just over a decade ago."

"I will have to fashion myself a new name…" Voldemort mused, smiling happily to himself. "Nothing too pretentious of course," he added after a short pause, "Perhaps, I shall take the name of one my Death Eaters? They _will_ still be my Death Eaters," he declared, daring Samael to disagree.

The Lestrange did no such thing. "Of course. The sheer power-base you have under your command is immense; to disregard them would be remiss. Besides," Samael gracefully crossed his legs, "You cannot lose this time; not only do you many political allies behind you unlike before, but you also have wisdom that has come with age."

"It is not as simple as that," the older wizard began. "Robert Potter knows of my return."

A vicious smirk marred Samael's features. "Robert Potter is of no consequence."

"You cannot guarantee my victory."

"I can guarantee the failure of your opponents," Samael countered, emerald eyes glinting with determination.

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, brother dear," Voldemort chided.

"I _do not_ make promises," Samael corrected, jerking his head to the side to stare unnervingly at his brother. "I make statements based upon truth and fact."

The Dark Lord tutted, "You cannot know that."

"I can."

"You cannot, Samael. Do not make me argue with you." Samael's mulish expression did not change in the slightest, and the Dark Lord only sneered at the younger wizard.

Samael returned the sneer, with a glare and lifted chin.

"Cease this nonsense!" Bellatrix demanded loudly, her eyes furious as she fixed both wizards with her glare. "My Lord do not antagonise your brother so," she pleaded with exasperation, "And Samael dear, please do not argue with your brother. Ah, ah!" she sounded, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them. "No complaints!"

Immediately, Samael acquiesced and closed his mouth, but his calculating eyes clearly told her he was only doing so because he wished to, not because she wanted him to. Voldemort however, allowed the fury to show on his face, his thunderous expression clearly telling Bellatrix that she was _his _follower, not the other way around.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Bellatrix fought down the shiver that threatened to shake her spine, at the man's deadly gaze. "My Lord, forgive my impertinence," she murmured lowly, shame evident in her voice. "I merely…"

"You merely what, Bellatrix? Thought yourself above me?" Voldemort's roving gaze, pinned her in her seat. With one graceful move, Samael stood to his feet and manoeuvred himself in front of his mother, effectively blocking Voldemort's gaze from her.

"Mother only lost herself in the moment, brother dearest," Samael stiffly replied, "She is happy coddling and reprimanding me, and because of our relation, she merely forgot her status amongst your ranks."

The older wizard glared at Samael. "I do not appreciate your attempts of waylaying my attention, Samael," Voldemort punctuated each word with irritation, before exhaling harshly. "However, I accept your reasoning," the Dark Lord turned to face one of his most loyal supporters. "See that it does not happen again, Bellatrix."

With no further words, the Dark Lord swept from the room with his journal clutched tightly in his hand. Samael shook his head slowly, and sat himself aside his mother once more, saying nothing as the woman's sharp-nailed fingers began their familiar routine through his curled hair.

Life was unconventional to say the least, but life was good.

* * *

><p>"Samael!" the boisterous call greeted the Lestrange as soon as he stepped from the fireplace, and he immediately sought the erratically jumping form of Andras. Unbidden, his lips quirked themselves into a small smile of amusement at the boy who never seemed to be troubled with the world for too long. "Draco, Draco, look! Samael's here!" the boy continued happily, but all of Samael's attention was on his blonde-friend.<p>

Silver eyes glanced up from the table, and Samael felt his smile stretch further at the happy expression that lit up Draco's face. The Malfoy rose from his seat and walked towards the Lestrange, before stopping a few feet before Samael with outstretched arms and a quizzical look on his face.

Samael desperately ignored his raging heart, and hesitantly took a step closer to his friend. _'Draco is my friend; I have known this fact for months. Friends show each other affection,' _he attempted to reason to himself, scowling as Draco's smile caused his heart to race even faster. _'It is quite reasonable for friends to…_embrace._' _And as those strong arms closed around him, Samael released a soft sigh of…well…something he couldn't name. Scowling even more furiously, Samael managed to breathe the soft scent of warmth before those arms withdrew.

Shifting ever so slightly on his feet, in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness, Samael cleared his throat. "Good evening, Draco," he greeted formally, before striding in the direction his hosts.

Draco followed the departure of his friend with sparkling silver eyes, not noticing the figure who had joined his side. "Good Yule, young Malfoy," the rich timbre declared, and the blonde physically stiffened in surprise, before relaxing into the neutral Malfoy mask.

"Good tidings, My Lord." the blonde bowed shallowly at the waist.

The older wizard chuckled lowly in his throat. "What has caused your excitement, young Malfoy? Surely, my brother's presence could not have given you so much joy."

Silver eyes watched the man warily, _'He cannot know,' _Draco thought to himself, _'The extent of my feelings is hidden well, surely?' _Clearing his throat, the blonde met the amused blue eyes with caution. "Samael has come so far since last year," he eventually declared, "Last Yule he would not have allowed me to embrace him, so this achievement is astounding."

The Dark Lord's twitched into the facsimile of a smile. "Perhaps," the wizard tilted his head to the side in an action reminiscent of Samael. "I did not have the opportunity to personally know Samael last year, however I do know that you two have always had a close bond."

Draco flinched at the words, _'What exactly is he implying?' _"We are the closest of friends," Draco metered his words with care.

"You are a fine companion for my brother," the man stated firmly, before sauntering in the opposite direction; Draco followed his departure with wide eyes. _'What the…'_

Before the blonde could continue his train of thought, Andras barrelled into his line of vision, a vicious frown fixed upon his face. Draco stiffened at the sight, whenever Andras was not in his jovial mood, the situation could not be good. Carefully stretching a hand out, Draco clutched the smaller boy's shoulder tightly. "Andras?"

The Snape stiffened at the contact, and turned his angered gaze upon the Malfoy. "Draco," his words were stiff with tension, and the blonde's gut twisted as nervousness pooled in his stomach.

"Whatever is troubling you?" the words tumbled from Draco's mouth, as his face set into a concerned moue.

Wordlessly, Andras held out a crumpled piece of parchment for Draco's inspection. Glancing at the date, his eyebrows rose into his hairline. _'Eleven days ago. No post-owl takes this long to deliver a letter.'_ Ignoring the thought for the time being, Draco returned to the letter, but raised furious eyes to Andras after the first paragraph.

"How could she?" he questioned roughly, as anger clouded his vision. "Raising a hand to her own child?" _'It just isn't done! How could Molly Weasley, supposed paradigm of wonderful mother _slap _her daughter?' _"Abhorrent!"

"Her brother, Charlie, is a good person," Andras commented offhandedly, obviously attempted to calm his anger. "She said that this is the first year that she will have celebrated Yule; her parents never allowed her to before."

"Disgusting!" Draco couldn't find the words to describe the revulsion he was feeling. _'How could you spend so long _not _thanking Mother magic for this gift?' _

"Her _mother_," Andras spat the title, "Expected Ginny to sleep on Charlie's sofa, but he transfigured it into a four-poster bed for her. He said that he knows what it is like to be on the receiving end of their mother's anger."

"And what," Draco's voice was clipped, as he glared at the boy, "Do you mean by that?"

Andras returned the glare, though they both knew they weren't angry at the other. "Apparently, Charlie and her other brother Bill were given the odd slap for their 'dark' thoughts." Seeing Draco's raised eyebrow, the Snape continued. "They told their mother that Slytherins weren't too bad, and that they wanted to celebrate the old ways."

Draco's eyes fell shut as an expression of anger and grief spread across his face. "How?" his voice was disbelieving, "How could someone do _that_? How could someone abuse their children?"

"People are capable of many cruel things, Dragon," the soothing voice of Samael answered from behind, and the blonde turned on the spot to stare into emerald eyes. "Some may even argue that slapping your child is not abuse, but discipline."

"Spanking your child twice is discipline," Draco hotly retorted, "And then you shower them with love, but slapping your child across the face in anger is abuse."

"Exactly!" Andras declared, folding his arms across his chest and glaring angrily at the letter.

Smiling softly at his friends, Samael pried the letter from the blonde's tight grip and glanced over it. "Well," his voice drew the boys' attention. "Perhaps you should suggest that her brother Charles takes guardianship of her?"

Both boys stopped their glaring, and it was Draco who voiced his opinion first. "How could that happen? An inquest would have to happen, and I highly doubt that Ginevra or her brother would be inclined for that to happen."

Andras' grin immediately disappeared to be replaced with a thoughtful frown. "It does not have to be formalised," he suggested, "She is staying with Charlie until Hogwarts begins, and I know he wouldn't mind having her stay during the Summer break. And if that fails, she can always visit Luna, Hermione or I."

Samael allowed a rare soft smile. "Go reply to her letter then, Andras," he commanded gently.

Andras worried his bottom lip. "But your brother's ritual?"

"It is not to begin for another twenty minutes. Go."

A relieved smile stretched the boy's face before he shot off in the direction of his cottage; Samael his fond smile behind his hand. Draco saw the action, and shone bright eyes at the Lestrange.

"Are you excited, Samael?" Draco moved so as to stand beside him, "About My Lord's ritual? You are finally going to have your brother in his flesh, it will be _astounding_." Draco poorly hid his awe.

Samael inclined his head, and walked towards one of the seats Remus had conjured earlier. "I must admit to feeling excited. My brother and I have great plans, and the return to his body is only going lead them to completion much swifter than we originally believed."

Nodding in realisation, Draco took the seat opposite Samael and frowned in thought. "Do you know what effect this day will have on the ritual? I mean, we performed the Yule celebration not only an hour ago."

Samael's smile was ferocious, and glancing behind him, Draco saw an equally feral grin on Voldemort's face. _'Magical influence…'_ he mused, idly wondering if their bond was the reason why only those two seemed affected.

"There will be no adverse effects, Dragon," Samael crooned softly, and widened silver eyes watched as Samael's face came closer to his own. _'Wait! What?'_ Samael's lips were dangerously close to his own, and those glazed emerald eyes were locked upon his. Pale fingers slowly grazed across Draco's face, before they traced a line from his eye to his cheek. Samael puffed a breath of air onto Draco's lips. "You had an eyelash on you," he murmured, before creating a respectful distance between them once again.

Draco was left in a state of shock. _'What was Samael doing? Was it the influence? I know it makes people share each other's emotions, but to lose their inhibitions?' _Draco attempted to stay on task, and not let disappointment fill him. _'He could have kissed me…' _The though floated through his mind, and a slow smirk curled his lips. _'Perhaps courting him will not be as difficult as I originally thought.'_

* * *

><p>Samael fought down his reddening cheeks as he strode towards his brother, who was practically oozing satisfaction. He had not realised how close he was to his friend until their lips had almost met, and then he had to shake off the ridiculous lust spell Voldemort had cast on him.<p>

"_What were you thinking?" _Samael hissed so that no-one else could understand, furiously scowling at the large smirk on the Dark Lord's face. "_Why would you do such a thing?!_"

"_Why brother,_" Voldemort's voice was smooth, "_I was doing you a favour. It is obvious that you two will eventually become lovers._"

Unbidden, memories from his encounter with the Mirror of Erised appeared in his mind, and he viciously squashed them down. "_Be that as it may, I am only twelve. I have no wish to have such…such thoughts…about my closest friend! How dare you jeopardise mine and Draco's friendship!"_

A bubble of laugher escaped the Dark Lord's mouth, and he placed a heavy hand upon Samael's shoulder. "_Samael_," he began with a shark-smile. "_I highly doubt anything or anyone will tear that boy from your side. He is a fine companion for you…In every sense of the word._"

Samael chose not to respond, but instead glanced at the locket Voldemort was lovingly caressing, and raised an inquisitive brow at him. Seeing where Samael was looking, the Dark Lord removed the locket from him and passed it to Samael.

Samael jolted at the unadulterated power emanating from the locket, and gasped lightly. Pale fingers quickly roved the jewelled surface, and discovered rough marks from where someone had scratched into the smooth metal. Turning the locket, his brows furrowed in thought. "R.A.B?" he mused aloud, "I recognise those initials…"

Sighing softly, the Dark Lord took the locket back from Samael and replaced it around his neck. "You most likely do little brother, since you know the genealogy of most pureblood families. I once gave this to someone I held dear to me – Regulus Black."

Emerald eyes widened ever so slightly at the revelation, and he cast a furtive look at his mother. Catching the movement, Voldemort shook his head. "No-one knew apart from his mother's portrait, not even Severus who was his friend, or Bellatrix who was his cousin."

"Ah," Samael paused in thought, wondering how to best word his next question. "You were bonded?"

"No," and the sadness in the wizard's voice told Samael the extent of Voldemort's emotions. "The locket was my engagement gift to him, he was only eighteen." Samael chose not to mention the grief audible in his voice. "He reminds me of a combination of Andras and Draco." Samael tried not to frown at the thought of the two boys together. "He was a good wizard."

"He made you happy," Samael's words were soft, and he offered the Dark Lord an apologetic glance. Voldemort's eyes closed and a fragile smile lifted his lips. Samael supposed that was an answer in itself.

Clearing his throat, Samael broke Voldemort's silent reverie. "Are you prepared for your ritual?"

Shiny blue eyes regarded him piercingly, "The question is, brother, are you? After all, you are the one who will be leading it."

An indignant look appeared on Samael's face. "Of course I am prepared, brother dearest, I have researched the ritual thoroughly, and I have prepared all of the ingredients needed.

Smiling ever so slightly at the younger wizard, Voldemort's eyes gleamed with pride. "That is reassuring to hear, Samael, considering it is nearing midnight."

Consulting the time with the _tempus _charm, Samael nodded, and made his way towards the middle of the garden where everyone was gathered around a rune circle that had been created from salt on the grass. Murmuring softly to himself, Samael checked over the runes and nodded. "Stand inside the inner circle," he commanded, and Voldemort complied, but not before placing the locket into Samael's hands, his eyes clearly telling him to not damage his most precious possession. Samael nodded solemnly.

Raising his head and hands to the heavens, Samael opened his mouth. "_Mother magic, I, your humble servant, Samael Cygnus Lestrange, call upon you to grant my request! Unite Tom Marvolo Riddle's soul with his body once more!_"Samael declared in parseltongue, his voice ringing clearly within the silence of the night. Retrieving an athmame from his robes, Samael deftly split open his palm and allowed three drops to fall upon the rune for family. "_Blood of the brother is willingly given_."

Approaching the rune for magic, he placed the open diary upon it so that its pages were on the ground, before stabbing the athame through the spine. "_Magic of the subject is released unto you_." Samael reached into his pockets once again, and pulled out a femur bone. Stalking around the circle, he found the rune for sire. "_Bone of the father is unwillingly taken_."

The final rune was the one for soul, and he gently laid the locket upon it. "_Soul of the subject for consideration too._"

The magic that had been palpable not only an hour before during the Yule celebration, was beginning to become corporal once again, as swirling ribbons of green, blue and red streaked through the sky. Samael fought against the headiness threatening to overcome him, and spoke the final words. "_Mother magic, return the soul to Tom Marvolo Riddle!_"

With high-pitched wails, the swirling lights convalesced into one great ball of blinding light, and with a hitch of anticipation from the onlookers, it sped into the body of the Dark Lord. The lights seared Samael's eyes, but he managed to see his brother staggering back from the impact of the magic.

The roar of magic was deafening until all that could be heard was something akin to white-noise. Moments of time passed, before the lights receded, (leaving the atramental sky almost lacklustre in response), and the onlookers began to blink the white-spots from their vision.

Raising nervous emerald eyes upon the circle, a grin stretched his face at what he saw. The wizard in the rune circle was unmistakably the man he remembered from his dreams, however his hair was not as peppered, and his face not as lined. No. Tom Marvolo Riddle did not look like a fifty year old man, but instead one in his early thirties. The ritual must have deducted the locket's soul-age from his real soul-age.

Gasps of surprise and delighted erupted from the onlookers, and Samael hurried towards his brother, removing the salt before he crossed the circle. "Brother?" he enquired softly, offering the Dark Lord a hand for him to steady himself with.

"S-Samael?" the richness to the Dark Lord's voice shook shivers down his spine; it was a voice of pure power. "The ritual was a success…I can feel my magic again." The child-like wonderment in the wizard's voice was surprising. "What colour are my eyes?" he murmured.

Glancing up, Samael's eyes widened. "They are dark; almost like Severus' however they have the tiniest smidgen of green." The Dark Lord smirked in satisfaction.

"Do I look fit for the political-scene, Samael?"

"Your appearance is apt for the most ancient and noble houses of all pureblood lines, brother, you are most definitely suited for the political arena."

"Good," the Dark Lord's smirk grew. "May I introduce myself as Marvolo Riddle, the thirty-seventh Lord of Slytherin."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Okay, sorry for the extremely long wait, I was going to update this the day after the last Dance Inside chapter, but I've been ill and then I realised how close to a RL deadline I was. Sorry!

**For those of you who did not know, I have a side-story to this – Dance Inside – which is the story of how Remus and Severus got together. I'm about halfway through it. It's not as dark as WDD, but it gives a bit of background to their lives, and to Voldie pre-WDD.**

I received a review telling me that I was making Draco too dominant, and for me to stop it, so I thought I would address it here in case others were feeling the same. Currently, Draco is more advanced in the emotion department than Samael, so he will seem more dominant to Samael because he is in better grasps of his feelings. However, Samael is not some helpless damsel, he is cunning, cool-headed, and passionate when needs be, and eventually their relationship is going to evolve into one of mutual understanding and status. Neither of them will be more 'dominant' than the other, and when it comes to sexual positions, I have not decided who will be 'topping' and who 'bottoming' it may be both of them. It all depends.

**Anyhoo, Voldie is back! Hell yeah! ;)**


	23. Becoming Closer

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>Becoming closer<span>

_At first glance, your instinct says;_

_This stranger's a little dangerous._

_The cat was killed from curious thrills;_

_Now Christ has left the manger._

_Russian Roulette – 10 Years_

* * *

><p>"Samael, a quick word," Marvolo called, pulling the Lestrange away from the shadowed corner where he and his parents were standing before casting a privacy ward around themselves. Both of the wizards ignored the appreciating stares from parents and children alike as they took in the handsome, impeccably dressed form of the Dark Lord.<p>

Raising a sculpted eyebrow, Samael glanced at his brother. "What is of such great importance?"

Marvolo smiled. "I must discuss our abilities," the Dark Lord declared, "We share the same blood, Samael, which is why you possess the ability to speak parseltongue," Marvolo began, and Samael nodded. "There is another gift that the Slytherin line possesses also, which is the gift of music."

Samael snorted loudly, unable to keep the sardonic smile from his face. Marvolo scowled lightly. "I _mean_," the man stressed the word with a pointed look to his brother. "That ever since Lander Slytherin was cursed, his descendants have been able to summon orbs of magical music."

Realisation dawned on Samael's face, and he nodded at his brother in understanding. "Yes, I have experienced the effect of this," Samael murmured, glazed emerald eyes remembering the circumstances in which it appeared.

"Over the generations, our descendants have manipulated the curse so that it suits our needs and not the curse's. You will be able to call upon that magic, either intentionally or unintentionally, in order to emphasise a point, decorate a room, or to alert someone to your whereabouts."

Samael's lips twitched. "You sound like a sales presenter," he teased.

"There is no incantation," Marvolo continued, as if Samael had not interrupted. "You only need to will the magic to the surface, and siphon it into your hands. Try it," he commanded lightly, smiling as Samael nodded in agreement.

A frown appeared on the Lestrange's face, as he concentrated on his task, and Marvolo watched with growing amusement, as his exasperated brother failed in creating his magical orb. Another annoyed huff left Samael, and Marvolo lightly grasped his wrists. "Loosen your wrists, Samael. If you stiffen them, then you are unable to move."

Snarling ever so slightly at the admonishment, Samael complied and almost immediately, a small bright orb filled his hands and a familiar jaunty tune filled the air. A wide grin stretched Samael's face, and his glowing green eyes were bright with accomplishment whilst Marvolo's were brimming with pride.

"Well done, little one," Marvolo murmured softly, "You truly are the Heir to Slytherin."

Samael's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you for this honour, brother," he stated solemnly, bowing shallowly at the waist. And when Samael glanced up, his emerald eyes were unusually bright.

A heavy hand rested upon Samael's thin shoulder, and he stared into the warm eyes of the Dark Lord. "I am proud of you, Samael." Marvolo gave the Lestrange a sharp nod, a tight squeeze on the shoulder and then disapparated away.

Spinning on his feet, Samael made his way back to his parents, where the worried hazel eyes of his mother caused something strange to uncurl in his stomach. Samael graced her with a small smile. "Marvolo just named me his heir," he declared somewhat dazedly, and Rodolphus' and Bellatrix's shocked faces almost caused him to laugh outrageously.

"He named you his heir?" Bellatrix questioned slowly, her eyes suddenly dancing with happiness. Whilst Rodolphus watched the pair interact with hooded eyes.

Nodding at the woman, Samael stated the positive.

"My darling!" Bellatrix shouted wildly, before pulling the twelve year old into a tight hug. Samael only froze for a second, before that feeling in his stomach calmed and he relaxed into the embrace, and hugged his mother back just as tightly. "I'm so proud of you!" Bella whispered into Samael's hair, "My little boy."

"I agree with your mother, Samael," Rodolphus' rough voice broke the mother and son apart, and Bella sent a winning smile to her husband before joining his side. "I am content knowing that you are my son."

To Bellatrix and Samael alike, that sentence spoke volumes, and judging by the looks Bellatrix was giving her husband, he was going to be awarded for that when they got home. Nodding sharply, Samael offered a small smile. "Thank you, father." Turning to face his mother, Samael was once again pulled into a hug.

"I'm going to miss you!" she exclaimed, before withdrawing. Fondly, Bellatrix stroked Samael's cheek, "Stay safe, my son," she murmured, before she stood back, and fell into her husband, who swiftly wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Goodbye, son," Rodolphus murmured, before apparating him and his tearful wife away.

Once his parents had gone, Samael let out a small sigh. Merlin, these emotional outbursts of his seemed to be becoming more frequent as the months passed by. First, was his response to Vernon's death, then his reaction to the Potter's sentencing, and now the warmth and undeniable relief he felt at Marvolo's acceptance as Heir of Slytherin.

Pushing away from the secluded corner, he made his way onto the train, easily evading the crowds. Samael supposed that he would just have to get used to the fact that his emotional range would be expanding with each passing day that he was exposed to people who actually cared for him. Some part of himself was chiding him for not realising this fact sooner.

Clearing those thoughts from his mind, Samael entered an empty compartment, and watched the bustling crowds swarm across the platform. The unmistakable shock of fiery red hair flashed passed his vision, and he saw Ginevra being escorted by a tall and muscular, but scarred man who was unmistakably a Weasley, and most obviously her elder brother Charles.

And there, a black blur streaked through the crowds and enveloped the young Gryffindor in a hug. Samael blinked at the easy show of affection, as Andras animatedly engaged both Ginevra and Charles in conversation.

A family as equally unmistakable as the Weasleys, were the Malfoys, who had unsurprisingly drawn a significant amount of attention due to their sheer imposing, menacing and undeniable beautiful exteriors. Several appreciating stares were sent in the group's direction, and Samael ignored the way his stomach churned in response.

The haughty blondes approached the two red-heads, and the crowd visibly turned to watch their interaction. Lucius shook the male Weasley's hand, whilst Narcissa smiled softly at the girl. Draco gave Ginevra a stiff smile before nodding at Charles.

'_And Charles Weasley has gained the Draco Malfoy nod of approval,' _Samael thought wryly, smiling ever so slightly as the blonde leaned into his mother's hug. _'As much as it pains him to admit it, Draco is a caring person.' _

Silver eyes met his through the window, and Samael's heart clenched at the instant blinding smile sent in his direction. _'Merlin_,' Samael's breath caught in his throat as he absently raised a hand to his friend, _'How can he make me act this way?'_

Draco hurriedly embraced his parents, before bowing shallowly at Charles Weasley and striding towards the train. It wasn't long before the Malfoy arrived, his breath shallow and his cheeks ever so slightly pink as he stood in the doorway.

"Sit down, Dragon," Samael commanded softly, shaking his head as the blonde hurriedly complied. "How was your trip to Bordeaux?" he enquired, leaning back in his seat to watch a contented smile stretch Draco's face.

"Enjoyable. Mother was pleased at the state of Black Manor, and Father was quite content at the variety of books in the library."

"And what exactly did you enjoy?" Samael asked, watching curiously as Draco's normal expression turned flustered, and his eyes immediately found his before quickly darting away.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Draco attempted to hide as Samael leant closer towards him. "Well, the area where we were staying is quite renowned for its _diversity_ and acceptance, and well…" Draco paused for breath, "I was witness to several public displays of sexual attention."

Blinking in surprise, Samael frowned. "You saw people perform coitus?" he sought clarification.

Draco flushed red, mortification clearly painted across his face. "No. No. Just…acts leading up to coitus…Passionate kissing, sexual contact, and other such matters."

"In public?"

Samael blinked once more, and sank further into his seat. "To think there are people so willing and unashamed to do such things in front of an audience." Draco only nodded, too embarrassed to speak on the matter. "Where were your parents, Dragon? I highly doubt your Father or Mother would have allowed you to wander into a disreputable area alone."

Draco's cooling face blushed red once again, and he mumbled an answer Samael did not hear. An amused smirk stretched Samael's face, as he glanced at his friend. "What was that, Dragon? I did not quite hear you?"

Draco glared at the silently laughing Lestrange. "I _said_," the blonde stressed, huffing in annoyance. "That I got lost. Satisfied?

"Quite." Samael's lips twitched. "Did anyone see you?"

The flush appeared again, and the blonde nodded, refusing to stare at the Lestrange. "The _performers _saw me. They…" Samael's eyebrows rose as Draco spoke. "They…winked at me, and the woman told me to come back in a couple of years."

Instantly, Samael's amusement bled away to anger. "Well, you will not be doing that now, will you?" Samael words said more as a statement as a question, as he glared moodily at the window.

Draco glanced at his friend's tone, but ignored it in favour of glaring in indignation. "Of course not!"

"Good." Samael couldn't help but keep the possessiveness from his voice, but it seemed like the blonde didn't notice. So, shaking his head to rid himself of his insipid emotions, Samael broached a subject he had been waiting to broach since Yule. "Tell me, Dragon, what do you know of Regulus Black?"

Surprised silver eyes met his, and Samael could practically see the questions forming in his head. But the blonde ignored his curiosity, and answered the question as honestly as he could.

"He was the younger brother to Sirius Black, and was appointed Lord Black on his seventeenth birthday. He had been initiated into the Death Eaters during his seventh year, and was promoted to your brother's inner circle within three months."

Samael rose an eyebrow at the blonde. _'Within three months? That is…_impressive._' _Draco only nodded in understanding. "Wait…" Samael paused, after thinking upon what Draco said. "Was? What happened to him?"

The blonde grimaced. "He took a curse intended for my Lord when he was eighteen, and he has been in a coma ever since."

"A coma? So he is not dead?" Ideas immediately began to from in his head, and he filed them away for later thought.

"He would probably be better off dead," the blonde admitted, "From what my father's said, he has been reliving his worst fears. For nearly _thirteen _years, Samael, what must he have been through?"

"Quite a bit, but then again I suppose he will compliment Marvolo much better now," Samael mumbled too quietly for Draco to hear. Instead he saved a small smile for his blonde friend, and said in a louder voice. "Thank you, my Dragon, you have been extremely helpful."

* * *

><p>"Ah! It's good to be back!" Declared a tall, fourth-year Gryffindor, as he jumped from the carriage and stretched.<p>

"Agreed! My dear old brother!" an identical boy shouted, loping an arm around his brother's shoulder, and pulling him close. "I mean, I love the Burrow, I really do" he trailed off, as he stared into the distance.

Nodding his head slowly, the other agreed. "Yeah, I know," he murmured in a morose tone. "Something just wasn't quite…right this year. Mum's been acting weird, so has Dad and Percy, and since when were Ginny and Charlie so close?" he thoughtfully glanced around at the crowds, obviously trying to spot his sister.

"They were badmouthing her the yesterday," the other boy murmured quietly, and bright blue eyes immediately narrowed on his.

"What do you mean, Fred?" George enquired sharply.

Fred sighed softly, and pulled his twin away from the path of another carriage heading in their direction. "Last night after you'd gone to sleep, I heard Mum and Dad saying how Ginny was being ungrateful and disobedient for being baby Malfoy's friend, and that she had better bucked her ideas up or else."

"Or else what?" George questioned, a dark look entering his eyes. The same look was on Fred's face, but he could only shake his head.

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good." The two shared a disturbed look, before they both scanned the crowds again.

"She'll be with Snape junior, won't she? Those two are practically joint at the hip," Fred murmured, before spotting a shock of white-blond hair. "There's Malfoy junior!"

"Where?" George swivelled his eyes in Fred's direction, "There! Oh, and there's that Lestrange kid…."George trailed off, as he spotted something strange.

"Is he…?" Fred's enquiry strengthened George's curiosity.

"Why, I think he is, Fred…" both the boys turned their head to the side, as if studying the scene from a different angle would provide a better answer. "Lestrange is stroking the air."

Identical blue eyes gazed at an approaching carriage with burning curiosity and excitement.

"Don't be silly, boys!" an airy voice floated from their shoulders, and standing there was that Lovegood girl that Ginny knew. "Only nargles would make Samael do _that_, and there are no nargles nearby today." The twins shared another puzzled look, and Luna shook her head softly. "No, Samael is petting the thestrals, such pretty creatures."

And with that parting statement, the blonde girl skipped away to join Malfoy's group, where she began speaking to the Lestrange boy, and stroked the air too. "Thestrals…"

"Don't people only see them when they see someone die?" George nodded solemnly. "But who could Lestrange or Lovegood see die?"

George shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to dwell on angst that had nothing to do with his twin, sister, or pranks. Fred only nodded his agreement. "Look there's Ginny!" Fred exclaimed, spotting his sister being helped out the carriage by the younger Snape.

The two only shared a soft smile at the sight, and made their way over to the group of first and second-years.

* * *

><p>"You've got wrackspurts buzzing around your head, Samael," declared a light voice, and emerald eyes turned from the scaly, reptilian skin to the ever-interesting Luna Lovegood.<p>

"Is that so?" a sculpted eyebrow rose in enquiry, and the dedicated girl only nodded fervently. "Well, I thank you for informing me."

"There's nothing to thank," the girl immediately stated, before releasing a wistful sigh. "If only you could see them, Samael! Daddy's inventing something to allow all of my friend's to see them too, then you wouldn't have to worry so much. Wrackspurts can cause you to do the most strangest of things after all!"

Her pale fingers joined his in stroking the snout of the thestral, and he spared her a small smile. "I would have to take your word for it, Luna, I am afraid that I am not acquainted with the dangers these invisible creatures possess."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You are not? Well, nargles are harmless, they only wish to reconnect, but wrackspurts and higglepiffs." The girl shuddered lightly, "I do not wish to think what they could do to an unaware person."

"I suppose then, that I must rely upon your keen sight to help prevent Draco and I from being affected."

Luna nodded, "That is no problem! I have always wanted to have friends to look out for."

A strange feeling settled in his chest, and Samael idly wondered if he was actually empathising for this strange but amusing girl.

"Please tell Ginny that the jokers are to be trusted," the blond girl made to leave, before spinning with an almost bashful face. "Oh! And the boy-who-lived shall soon cease to exist forever, but the strange one shall soon come to life. Bye!" she exuberantly declared, before skipping into the crowd.

An icy sensation slid down his throat. _'Soon cease to exist? Surely, she cannot mean that I will die?'_ Samael questioned himself, _'It is much too soon for me to die, I have too much to complete. I have too much to live for now.'_ Unbidden, his eyes slid to Draco who was hovering protectively at Andras and Ginevra's side, as the Weasley twins spoke to their sister. _'What would Draco do if I died?'_

'_The strange one. Honestly….She is referring to myself, is she not? I am a Lestrange, I have never been the boy-who-lived. Does this mean that I am finally cutting ties to the Potter name?' _Samael sighed softly to himself, _'Well I cannot ask her to explain further, the nargles will not have given her a detailed explanation.'_

Glancing towards the group once again, he saw that the two twins looked enraged whilst Draco and the two first-years looked grim. Swiftly, Samael made his way to Draco's side, and gently brushed fingers with the blonde to inform him of his presence.

Draco spared him a sideways glance, and a small bashful smile before returning to the two fourth-year Gryffindors. _'Goodness, Draco's reactions to me are always entertaining.' _

"…slapped you!" the twins demanded in unison, utter fury painted across their faces as they glared holes into the distance. "How dare she! You did nothing wrong! I mean she's wacked us with the spoon before, but only after we burnt a hole in the kitchen floor when we were five."

"That was you!" Ginny burst out, amusement and astonishment colouring her voice. "But…Just…how did you manage that at five?"

The two shared a delighted and self-satisfied grin. "We were experimenting with bubotuber puss."

Samael winced at the statement, and Draco harshly drew in breath. "How did you manage to find bubotuber puss? It's a class C ingredient, and you can only buy it with a certified licence."

The twins only shrugged their shoulders, but glanced thoughtfully at the blonde. "We don't know. It was on the floor anyway, I mean what were we supposed to do? This is us we are speaking about, and we were five!"

"I think we have diverted here," Samael spoke his first words in the discussion. "I take it that you two are of similar minds to us and to your elder brothers? That your mother's actions to Ginevra are inexcusable, and that she is much safer and happier with Charles?"

The identical boys nodded simultaneously, frowning furiously at the girl in question. "Definitely, what Mum did was totally uncalled for." They glanced at each other, before Fred said. "And Dad too, he never should have condoned it."

Nodding sharply, Samael smiled at the two. "Good. Now, my task for you two is to ensure that Ginevra is not left alone with either of your parents."

"Of course!" George declared, and both he and Fred grinned at their sister. "Call us Gred and Forge - official bodyguards,"

"and pranksters!" Fred added. _'Merlin, these two are exhausting.'_

George nodded in Fred's direction. "Yes, the official bodyguards and pranksters for our darling sister." Their beaming smile looked anything but innocent, but Samael supposed it would have to do.

"Very well," Samael stated gravely, bringing the group's attention back onto the matter at hand. "I do believe that we should be heading inside now, do you not agree?" he enquired, before walking in the direction of the castle, so he missed the blinding smile both Andras and Ginny sent him, but he couldn't help but hear the continued bantering of the Gryffindor twins.

"Dragon?" Lestrange lightly murmured, smiling ever so softly at Draco's exasperated hiss. _'Honestly, you would have made me cease this nickname months ago if it truly annoyed you so.' _"I will regret involving Fred and George Weasley, will I not?"

Samael's only answer was a pitying stare, and an amused grin.

* * *

><p>The biting chill of Hogwarts castle caused another shiver to ravage Samael's body. With a soft sigh, Samael he merely pulled his charmed robes closer around his torso, and pulled the hood over his head. A soft but unmistakable sound of a dripping tap echoed from the walls, and a light odour could be detected despite the persistent smell of woman's perfume.<p>

Samael paused briefly in his stride through the bathroom, his pace disturbed from the sound of quiet breathing. Slowly turning his head, the shadows fell across his face and the flickering light of the candles showed nothing untoward. And yet…something did not seem quite right. And Samael could swear he was not alone in the room…

"Who's out there?" a shrill voice shrieked from a stall, and the pained face of a teenage girl floated through the door. "Have you come to make fun of me? Poor Moaning Myrtle!" the girl bemoaned, before flying through the door to float in front of Samael.

Samael gave her a confused tilt of the head. "Why would I make fun of you? I do not know you, and to bully you seems rather immature and unkind," he murmured sagely, smirking ever so slightly, as the girl's shrewd gaze was immediately overtaken with one of bittersweet happiness.

"Olive always poked fun at me," she admitted sadly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Her, and her friends, and anyone who didn't want to disagree with her," she sniffed loudly, "It wasn't my fault that my hair wasn't perfectly coiffed like theirs, or that I had to wear glasses, or that I couldn't afford perfume or all those silly trinkets all the other girls had."

Samael's intense emerald eyes glanced onto her translucent ones. "Surely someone defended you against those despicable girls?"

It was definitely a wistful sigh the ghost made this time, and she released a small giggle as she gazed into the distance. "There was this one boy," she murmured slowly, "Tom Riddle. Oh, he was the Slytherin prefect and a year older than me, devilishly handsome and oh so powerful, but he could not stand all those silly little girls who refused to use their brains! He always said that I was smarter than those girls combined," she declared wildly, smiling widely as the memory came back to her.

Samael's sculpted eyebrows rose at the girl's statement. _'It _does _sound like something my brother would say, but why admit it to this girl? Unless…'_ Samael trailed off, _'He must have wanted someone to confide in, and she unknowingly provided support? It seems rather far-fetched, but I suppose I shall have to refrain from the answer until I meet him once more.'_

"I can see why he thought that," Samael answered smoothly, and another giggle fell from the ghost's lips. "You obviously care a great deal for the boy,"

"Boy? No no, he would be a man now, sixty-six if I have the year correctly," she whispered sadly, a morose frown sliding across her face. "I wonder if he ever married? He must have chosen a good wife if he did, smart, cunning, beautiful…"

'_I wonder…To begin the rumours at Hogwarts? Well, the thought _did _cross my mind, and this opportunity is most fortuitous to ignore.'_

"Tell me, Myrtle, did you happen to know this man's full name?" he enquired, easily placing a thoughtful expression upon his face.

A moment's silence passed between the two, as the ghost frowned in thought. "Marvolo," she answered a short time later. "Thomas Marvolo Riddle." Samael allowed his thoughtful look to morph into one of shock. "What is it?" she asked worriedly, eyes quickly scanning his body.

"I know a man with the name Marvolo Riddle. He is thirty-two years old, but he knows little about his father, for he died when he was just a babe, and his mother passed on when he was in his childhood."

A pained gasp escaped the ghost, as her eyes turned decidedly watery. "Died?" she echoed hollowly, "Well, I suppose we all do in the end. But he never knew his son? And this son, Marvolo… he knew neither of his parents?" she floundered for her words for a second, before screeching "It's so unfair!"

Samael nodded at the ghost's words, and offered her a sad smile. "I am aware of the cruelties of the world, Myrtle."

She glanced at him in an odd mix of compassion and shrewd understanding, before a hopeful expression crossed her face. "Do you think that Marvolo could come visit me?"

Samael smiled kindly, "I believe he could," he said easily, "However, currently he is sorting his father's finances and title."

"Titles?"

At the ghost's curios look, Samael's smile turned into a smirk. "His title as Lord Slytherin."

The ghost girl floundered for words, as she let out a high-pitched whine before it collapsed into a hysterical giggle. "Oh!" the ghost gasped, a smile of pure thrill stretching her face. "Merlin, I knew he would prove himself! He was obviously fitted for the Slytherin House; he was so much more cunning than the others, regardless of his blood status. If only those stuck-up prats were alive today, Tom would definitely be able to rub it in their slimy faces! And in Dumbledore's!"

Samael's eyes slid to hers, a questioning look on his face, whilst a fierce curiosity burned in his eyes.

"Dumbledore never trusted Tom," the ghost explained, "And in return, Tom never trusted Dumbledore, which made it very difficult for Tom to open up emotionally."

Samael regarded her shrewdly. "Were you two close? You speak as if you have some insight into his life." _'and I highly doubt that Marvolo confided in you.'_

The girl released another giggle. "Close? Tom and I? Merlin, no! I would not classify us as close. He comforted me when I was sad, I never enquired into his personal life." Seeing Samael's somewhat confused look, she further said. "I was a Ravenclaw, and whilst we are clever we are almost as observant as the Slytherins, and though Tom tried to hide it, it was obvious to anyone who looked that he disliked the Headmaster."

Samael closed his eyes in thought. "I see," he murmured quietly.

The ghost only smiled sadly. "Tell me, are you planning on going to the Chamber?"

Samael arched an eyebrow. "And why would you say that, Myrtle?"

The ghost merely rose her own eyebrow in reply. "Please do not insult me. You are of some relation to Tom, how direct I do not know, however the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in this room, and if Tom truly was a descendant of Slytherin, and you a relative of his, then you would share his ability of parseltongue."

Samael moved to speak once more, but he ghost interrupted. "On second thoughts, young snake, do not tell me. That way, I do not have to answer to the Headmaster if pokes his nose into these matters. Goodbye!" she called, before she flew towards her stall again, but before she reached it, she called over her shoulder. "Oh! Before I forget, little snake, there is someone in the corridor!" and with a 'splash' she disappeared down the U-bend.

Immediately, Samael spun on his feet, wand in hand and approached the door. _'It could not be Potter or Weasley again; I doubt that even they are idiotic enough to anger the snakes twice in the span of three months,'_ Samael reasoned to himself, but that did not still his raging heart, or the twitchiness of his muscles. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" Samael sung under his breath, his eyes narrowed as the shadows to his left shifted.

Now that he was searching for it, a soft breathing could be heard above the echo of the dripping taps, and Samael spun to face the shadow before shouting out the stunning curse. Almost a second later, a body came falling to the ground, a rather familiar body.

"Draco?" Samael whispered, cancelling the stunning curse, before standing above his friend. "Draco? What do you think you are doing?" he enunciated each word clearly, confusion and irritation lacing his voice.

Wide silver eyes stared into his, and Samael felt a strange feeling rock through him, as if an icy hand had grabbed his heart. "Why were you following me, Draco?" he questioned, when the blonde made no move to answer his first question.

"I…" the blonde stumbled to his feet and for his words, "I heard you leave, and I…I was worried."

"Worried?" Samael echoed, confusion evident in his voice and face.

Draco nodded sharply, and glanced at his feet. "The last time I found you alone, you…you were crying, and I just wanted to be nearby…just in case."

The icy grasp on his heart was soon forgotten as warmth flooded his cheeks. _'To be reminded of such a weak state!' _he declared internally, before quickly calming himself. _'But for him to follow me because he cared…'_

"I'm sorry," Draco burst out, shame in his voice, but his eyes spoke of determination. "But I will not leave you alone, if you need someone to comfort you. You…" the blonde faltered, his own cheeks red with embarrassment. "You know that I'm always here for you."

Something uncurled within Samael's chest, and a small smile made its way, unbidden, upon his face. "Thank you, Dragon," Samael murmured quietly, yet fondly. Draco beamed at his words. "However, you need not fear, I will not begin to weep any time soon."

Draco's smile instantly deflated, and glanced nervously at his friend. "_What _are you doing here then? Talking to a ghost-girl of all things?"

"I am going to see Marvolo's pet."

Draco said the words aloud twice, before he realised what Samael was implying. Shocked silver eyes flew to Samael's. "No! She could hurt you! What are you thinking?"

Samael arched an eyebrow, irritation bubbling inside him. _'How dare Draco attempt to control my actions!' _"It is not your place to know what I am thinking, Dragon," he stated cold and dismissive, and his stomach churned at the _hurt _swimming in those silver eyes.

"I thought that we were friends, Samael." Samael only managed a sharp nod. "She's a basilisk, Samael, she can kill you with a glance. I don't…you can't!"

Samael's stance relaxed, and his cold eyes softened at the concern etched into every inflection of Draco's voice, and every feature of his face. He did not know what possessed him, but he placed a heavy hand upon the blonde's shoulder, and the Malfoy turned, turning this gesture into a pseudo-embrace. Samael found that he did not find the proximity unpleasant.

Sighing into the blonde hair, Samael murmured: "I do not know what you expect me to do, Dragon. I need to talk to Selina, it is most imperative. I cannot allow how free roam of the school."

Shining silver eyes burned into his. "Let me come with you! I could be an extra pair of eyes, and an extra wand! I could…"

"No!" Samael's horrified answer was shouted. "You will be nowhere in that Chamber until I am certain Selina will not harm you."

"But…"

"There are no buts, Draco!" Samael snapped, his arms tightened their hold on the Malfoy. "I will not allow any harm to your person. I…" he faltered, "I do not know what I would do should you be hurt." _'Or killed.'_

"I am coming down with you," the Malfoy stated firmly, placing his finger on Samael's lips when the Lestrange made to speak. "I will come with you, and when you call for Selina, I shall have my eyes shut, and I shall not open them until you say so. Can you agree?"

'_No!'_ his mind screamed at him to deny the blonde his request, but some part of him knew that he could not deny him. "I will acquiesce this time, Dragon," he finally murmured, "But when we get into the Chamber, you must obey my orders. I will not be asking, but commanding. Do _you _agree?"

The blonde made to protest, but closed his mouth, and nodded. _'Correct answer,'_ Samael thought dryly, before turning to face the sink.

* * *

><p>"This is disgusting!" Draco exclaimed loudly, as he took in the dank walls, dripping with viscous fluid, and rodent skeletons littering the floor. Samael only spared him an exasperated look, before continuing on his journey through the chamber.<p>

"I mean, really!" the blonde continued, ignoring Samael's warning look. "One would think that a cleaning charm isn't too difficult, but apparently, it is! Eurgh! What even _is _that?"

"Dragon?" Samael's voice was deceptively calm, as he crushed another skull with his cane.

"Hmm?" the Malfoy sounded, glancing up at the Lestrange. "Yes?"

"Be quiet!"

The blonde nodded, obviously noticing Samael's irritation, and began to sing quietly under his breath instead. Samael gripped the bridge of his nose, and exhaled loudly. _'Really, why was Draco being so insufferable today?'_ "Draco?" Samael attempted once more, and received an affirmative sound. "As lovely as your voice is," _'And truly it is_.' Samael had to quell the strange fluttering in his chest at the sound. "Would you please be quiet, I am trying to hear Selina."

"Fine." There was a definite defiance to the blonde's words, and Samael did not have to look to see a pout on the blonde's face.

Huffing in irritation, Samael spun around to face the blonde. "Why are you being like this, Draco?"

The innocent expression on Draco's face did nothing to alleviate Samael's suspicions, and his gaze only narrowed on the blonde. Eventually, the blonde threw his hands in the air, and pinned Samael with an annoyed stare. "What, Samael! I am your friend, I thought that friends shared important things."

"We have been through this!" Samael hissed, glaring.

"No! You've been through this, and whilst I understand you not wanting me to come along, you could have told be you were going to the Chamber!"

Samael's expression could have curdled milk. "Why?" _'Why must I constantly have to explain myself to Draco?'_

"Why? Why you ask?" Draco's voice was incredulous as he stared at his friend. "You could _die _down here, Samael! So what if you're a parseltongue, you are still going to face a basilisk, and she is still a deadly creature! What would I have done if you had died? You would have just disappeared, I wouldn't know where to look! What would your mother say? Or your brother?"

'_How dare he presume to know what my brother thinks!' _"Marvolo was aware of my intentions," Samael ventured stiffly, but Draco only seemed to get more enraged.

"Yes, he knew of your intentions, but he probably thought that you would tell someone before enacting them!"

"What do you want me to say, Draco? That I am sorry?" Samael asked testily.

"It would be a start," Draco answered tartly, folding his arms across his chest in a sign of disapproval.

Samael hissed in anger, hands carding through his hair in agitation. "I am sorry, alright! Are you happy now?"

"Swimmingly," Draco deadpanned, before he slumped in on himself. "Look, Samael. I was just so worried when you disappeared, and I'm not asking to be your lapdog or mean to constantly be sniffing at your heels, but could you please just tell me if you're going to do something dangerous? I worry about you…so much, Samael. You are my Achilles heel, if something ever happened to you…Gods, I dare not think about it."

Samael felt his anger immediately dissipating with Draco's words. _'How can I stay angry at him? I should know by now that Draco has my intentions at the forefront of his mind.'_ Softly, he placed a comforting hand upon Draco's shoulders. Bright silver eyes shot up, and Samael allowed an apologetic smile to cross his lips.

"I am sorry for distressing you so, Dragon. I know how much I mean to you, and you should be aware that I feel the same for you," Draco's eyes glazed over in a mixture of disbelief and happiness, "I am sorry for not considering your feelings before I left the dorms, of course I shall tell you if I will perform something dangerous. And Draco," Samael paused for a moment, ensuring that Draco's gaze was on his. "I do not think you are constantly sniffing at my heels, you are my only friend, and your questions only shows that you care."

The blonde's eyes were decidedly watering now, and Samael could only spare him an awkward pat on the shoulder before turning his eyes to the pathway ahead. After several moments, Samael believed Draco had composed himself, and began the walk through the chamber once more.

The flickering lights of the torches lit up a…dead end. Samael frowned, and upon closer inspection found the wall to be carved with interlacing snakes and an incredibly detailed ouroboros. "Dragon?" Samael called, and he heard an affirmative from behind. "Stay here."

"What? No!" the predicted protestations came, and Samael withheld his need to sigh.

"You said that you would listen to my commands when down here, Draco, and I am telling you to stay put. I am unaware to where Selina is passed this wall, and I will not risk your safety."

Draco looked to protest further, but wisely kept his mouth shut, before: "A safe word!"

Samael inclined an eyebrow at this apparent non-sequitur.

"A safe word. We will agree on a safe word, and if you're in trouble, shout it, and I'll come and get you. Deal?"

'_Whilst not the most eloquent of Draco's bargains, I cannot fault him.' _"Very well. We will settle for 'lion'. Is that satisfactory?"

"Lion?" Draco queried, his face morphing into a confused frown. Samael couldn't help but let the amused smirk cross his face.

"Well, I hardly doubt there will be a lion in the following room, therefore it is highly unlikely for me to have to shout it, is there?" Samael's smirk softened to a smile at Draco's amused snort.

"Fine," the blonde grudgingly conceded, "But you have to shout it as loud as you can, agreed?"

Samael nodded. "Agreed."

* * *

><p>Opening the chamber wall took something as simple as 'open' in parseltongue. <em>'Simplicity is often overlooked,'<em> Samael thought quietly, as he strode into a room which seemed a bit _too_ devoted to the reptilian species, even for the Slytherin line.

Snake statues, almost two metres in height, rose from the ground throughout the room, whilst a moat ran throughout the room shaped into an ouroboros. Intricately detailed carvings decorated the room, of snakes, intertwined and alone alike, and at the end was the startling statue head of Salazar Slytherin himself.

After reading the Slytherin journal, Samael was aware of how narcissistic the Slytherin line was, but he did not conceive just _how _narcissistic Salazar Slytherin was. Oh well.

/O, speak to me, greatest of the Hogwarts four!/ Samael repeated the words his brother told him, in parseltongue. The mouth of Salazar's statue opened, and a soft slithering could be heard before…

/Master Tom? Is that you, master? My eyes! They hurt so master! Please!/

There was a great lurch at Samael's heart, and he felt as if something had ripped his vocal chords. Such pain she was in. _'Just like Cecil,' _his mind unhelpfully reminded, as a painful feeling he could now identify as grief tugged at his heart.

/Calm yourself, Selina,/ Samael hushed, and he immediately saw the beautiful scaled head of the basilisk poke from Salazar's mouth. The sheer size and beauty of her was astounding, the way her scales moved, and the way the flickering candles caused her form to practically _shine _in the dark.

/You are not Master Tom! Where is he?/ the change from pained to threatening was instantaneous. /What have you done to my Master/ she hissed wildly, throwing her head back and forth with anger.

/I am Master Tom's,/ Samael struggled for a words the basilisk would understand, /nest mate. I am his brother, we share the same blood.

Silence.

The gigantean head tilted itself to the side, as golden eyes assessed the wizard before them. Slowly, she slithered towards him, and Samael fought his instincts which urged him to tense, and forced himself to relax.

/You are speaking the truth,/ she finally hissed, withdrawing her head to a less threatening distance. /Where is he? My eyes…they hurt so./

Samael was dismayed to see such a regal being in so much pain. Her agonised cries and moans were torturous to his ears, and the sensation to _help_ and _comfort _her overwhelmed him. /Sssh, sssh, calm yourself!/ Samael ushered, walking slowly towards the beautiful creature.

/Master Tom will be returning soon,/ Samael stated, and a hopeful sound reverberated throughout the room. /He does not wish for you to be in pain, so I am going to make you slumber once more./

She tensed her coils, and rose to her full height to see him. /The hurt…it will go?/ the childlike question almost had Samael in tears. How could one so magnificent, be so fragile?

/Yes, it will. Master Tom will soon arrive to eradicated the pain completely,/ he felt the need to assure her, and the creature merely nodded her head before coiling in on herself. /Are you ready?/

The basilisk's muscles tensed in anticipation, and a small 'yes' was hissed from the mass of scales before him. Briefly closing his eyes, Samael spoke the incantation Marvolo informed him of, and watched as Selina's breaths evened and her coils relaxed.

Shakily, he raised a hand to the side of Selina closest to him, and stroked her lovingly. "Dragon?" Samael called after a few moments with Selina. "It is safe to come in." and as soon as he hissed the password, Draco came running into the room.

Only to stop and stare at the sight of Samael sat on the chamber floor, slender fingers tracing patterns into the scales of Selina. "She's…" Draco trailed off, awe evident in his voice, as he stared in wonderment at Selina and Samael.

"Beautiful," Samael completed the blonde's statement. Draco nodded dazedly in assent, as he staggered towards the two beings. Samael merely rose an arm in beckoning, and Draco made his way closer. Upon further gesturing, Draco sat beside Samael, and began his own inspection of Selina.

Several hours later, the pair of them emerged from the chamber. Slightly sombre, lost in thought, and just a little bit closer together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm so sorry for the long wait! This extra-long chapter is to make up for the chapter I missed in November, I'm currently writing the next chapter, so it should be up on Boxing Day.

I was meant to put more plot into this, but I got caught up in Draco/Samael feels! :3

Have a great time, guys!

Ta-ta!


	24. Welcome to the Arena, Lord Slytherin

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>Welcome to the Arena, Lord Slytherin<span>

_I've got that summertime, summertime sadness;_

_S-s-summertime, summertime sadness;_

_Got that summertime, summertime sadness;_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Summertime sadness – Lana Del Rey_

* * *

><p>Following the winter break, the months seemed to pass quickly in a blur of sound and sight. The daring buds were braving themselves in the light breeze of a chilly May day, whilst the rustling leaves above them provided shelter for the students below.<p>

"I'm totally not going to pass the tests!" a loud voice proclaimed, freckled arms reaching up to the sky, as if to ask the heavens why he was failing. An answering groan, came from beside him, and he cast his blue eyes onto his best friend. "We're gonna be kicked out! What about Quidditch!" the upset look on his face at that statement soon morphed into one of horrified terror. "What about my _Mum_? She'll kill me, I tell you! Her wooden spoon will be the last thing I see before I die!"

An amused snort came from the boy beside him, and the speaker scowled. "It's alright for you, I suppose, Sirius won't care if _you_ get expelled. He'd probably throw you a party for being a true Marauder." The jealousy was obvious in the boy's voice, but the other one just shrugged it off.

"At least you're parents aren't locked in Azkaban," the morose reply came, and Ronald Weasley instantly regretted his last remark. Honestly, Robert Potter hadn't been this self-pitying since the verdict came through in November. _Six _months ago.

A grimace crossed Ron's freckled face. "Eurgh! I'm sorry, mate. Shouldn't have brought it up."

"Hmm?" the boy enquired, his equally freckled face scrunched in confusion. "Oh, it's fine." Ron almost wanted to strangle his friend…or himself. Couldn't Robert be angry instead? Ron could deal with angry-Robert, not with depressed-Robert.

"I know what will cheer you up!" Ron exclaimed happily, as an absolutely awesome idea struck him. "How about we prank the Slyhterins? I heard Fred and George the other day talking about a spell that will turn someone pink for an entire day! Come on! Just imagine Malfoy the same colour as one of Ginny's fashion magazines!" Ron was almost dancing with joy at the mischievous glint that entered Robert's eyes. "Or Parkinson, or Zabini. Oh, I know! Lestrange! That weird kid! He'd look even weirder if he was pink!"

If there was something Ron wasn't expecting, it would be the angered face of Robert, and the point of said wizard's wand directed at Ron's chest. "Not Lestrange!" Robert commanded.

Ron frowned in confusion. "What? Why not? All Slytherins are fair game, _you _know the rule! _You _came up with it!"

Robert frowned in return, and hesitated for a moment. "I just…" he trailed off, eyes glazed over in thought. "Just don't want to do it to him. He's not like the other Slytherins. He's nice to everyone, and I mean _everyone, _even the Hufflepuffs! And when I took the polyjuice… you should have seen the Snakes' reactions to him. They respected him, and protected him like he was their winning seeker!"

"So you think that he's secretly a Hufflepuff?" Ron asked incredulously, "He's a Snake! And best-friends with Malfoy! He's rotten!" Ron exclaimed, before suddenly finding Robert's wand pressing into his jugular.

Frigid hazel eyes glared into Ron's blue ones. "Take that back, Ron! Lestrange is nice if you're nice to him."

Ron's blue eyes widened in surprise. "You've spoken to him?!"

"I met him in Madam Malkins before first-year. And he was really nice to me, until I was a prat to him," Robert admittedly with a small blush of embarrassment. "But he's never had a go at me for it, or forced me to apologise. He's not like the other Slytherins!"

Ron nodded slowly, but he was still clearly confused as Robert continued to regale the brilliant attributes of Samael Lestrange. Eventually, after what seemed like hours of Lestrange-worshiping, Robert sent Ron an expectant look.

Mulishly, Ron agreed to the Potter's wish. "Fine! Lestrange must be in Slytherins because most his family is in there." Robert beamed at this statement. "But the rest of the Slytherins are fair game, right?

A predatory smirked crossed Robert's face. "Absolutely."

* * *

><p>Ronald returned that smirk with vigour, and the two friends bent their heads together to nefariously plot.<p>

"My Lord," a deep voice intoned, and sharp glare was sent in the regal blonde's direction. "My apologies, Lord Slytherin. Minister Fudge has planned a visit to Hogwarts' in the next hour, do you wish to accompany?"

Dark green eyes closed briefly, which was the time needed for Marvolo to assess the proposition. Slowly, a devilish smirk stretched his handsome face. "Thank you, Lucius," the pure power in his voice sent shivers down the blonde's spin. "I do believe I will accept your offer. When shall we depart?"

Lucius straightened his back at the question, his Malfoy breeding reminding him to appear strong when nervous. The blonde cleared his throat lightly. "We may leave now, if you wish?" The Dark Lord rose an eyebrow in silent mocking; Lucius faltered. "We must walk from Hogsmeade to enter the castle, which will take us quite a moment?" The Malfoy did not intend for this to be a question, and Marvolo's smirk only grew larger.

"Alas, my good friend," Marvolo's rich voice charmingly began, "You have forgotten that we possess a mode of transport which will bypass any ward."

Pale blue eyes widened, and a small gasp (which Lucius will deny) escaped the blonde. "But My Lord…that is to say… Lord Slytherin." That mocking eyebrow only rose further in enquiry. "Dumbledore has means to detect its use!"

Marvolo frowned. "Dumbledore _believes _that he is able to monitor my actions, Lucius, but he is very much mistaken! He based those spells upon my blood… which no longer exists." Marvolo immediately saw the shock and confusion in those pale eyes, no matter how hard Lucius attempted to hide it.

"Lord Slytherin?"

"You see Lucius, those spells became inactive the day I was reborn. The night I lost my body those twelve years ago, I willingly shared my blood with Samael. This Yule, my darling brother willingly shared his blood, the blood which was both mine and his, with me. And thus, Samael and I both have each other's blood pumping through our bodies, our magical signatures are intertwined, the blood Dumbledore uses for those tracking spells are useless, and we, my dear friend, are free to bypass any ward we wish."

The smirk on Marvolo's face was so wide it could almost constitute as a grin, and Lucius could not help but return it. "Lord Slytherin…" Lucius paused for his words, eyes alight with glee and anticipation. "You do not know how it pleases me to hear those words."

Marvolo's face softened. "I am merely glad to be here to return them."

A comfortable silence settled in the room, before Marvolo abruptly stood to his feet. "Come Lucius," Marvolo beckoned, calling his magic to the surface. The Dark Lord's shadow seemed to climb his body like curling smog, its inky trails oozing rapidly over his skin. "I shall meet you at the entrance gates." And with those words, Marvolo shrouded himself in his shadow and disappeared from sight.

Lucius only blinked, grinned, and departed in very much the same manner.

When Lucius opened his eyes, he was standing before the magnificent castle. His grin only broadened, as he felt his shadow recede and settle itself in its normal place.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" the closeness of Marvolo's rich voice startled Lucius, and his grin faltered. The pearly white canines poked over the bottom lip of the Dark Lord, as his mouth settled in a feral grin. "To be immersed completely in magic?"

Lucius could only nod, his eyes glazed as he remembered the intimate touch that only Mother Magic could give. Yet, as he slowly refocused on the world, he felt his good mood dim at the sight of a lime bowler hat. A lime bowler hat, which was sat upon the head of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

"Ah, Minister!" Lucius called good naturedly, offering a short bow at the short man. The jolly face of Fudge widened into a wide smile.

"Lucius!" the Minister responded, extending his arm for the Malfoy to shake, before turning bright eyes upon Marvolo. "And who is your friend?"

Lucius cleared his throat. "Minister, let me introduce you to Mavolo Riddle, Lord of the most ancient and renowned House of Slytherin."

"Why, it's good to meet a friend of Lucius'….wait? Did you say Slytherin?" Calculating brown eyes turned to Marvolo whilst Lucius nodded in agreement. "It is definitely a pleasure to meet the Lord of one of the houses to create such an illustrious school as Hogwarts'.

Marvolo smiled. "Illustrious?" he questioned, smiling even wider at the shiver of terror which shook the Minister's body. "I have never been to Hogwarts' before, but I am sure that your opinions of it, are very much accurate."

The Minister stared at Marvolo in aghast. "You have never been to Hogwarts'? But it is your ancestral right, you own a quarter of the estate! How can it be that you have never visited"

"My father, Thomas Riddle, attended Hogwarts', however the headmaster declined my father's offer to become a professor here. My father was unaware of his claim to the Slytherin line, because he was unaware of the inheritance testing all muggle-raised children must have aged seventeen."

At this statement, the Minister was left spluttering in denial, his stout face going cherry red in anger and embarrassment. "That is unbelievable! How could this have happened? It is routine! Nothing interferes with the routine!"

Marvolo could only shrug in return, "He left for Albania, where he met my mother, they married, and my mother gave birth to me. However, my father died before I was a month old, and my mother followed suit when I was in infancy. I only recently came to Britain, to visit some close friends of mine. You may know them? The Lestranges?"

Fudge paled slightly. "The…ugh…Lestranges you said?" he enquired, absently dabbing at his sweating brow. "No I haven't had the pleasure of…ah…meeting the family. But the Lady Lestrange is your sister-in-law, Lucius, if I am not mistaken?"

Lucius smiled disarmingly, and Fudge relaxed somewhat. "Yes, Bellatrix is indeed my sister-in-law. She is a lovely woman, but I am afraid that her reputation precedes her."

"Reputation?" Marvolo questioned, with a curious tilt of the lips. "I was unaware that she was in possession of one."

"Ah…that is…" Fudge faltered at Marvolo's raised brow. "There were rumours…unfounded rumours, I say, based on little truth and hearsay…rumours that she was involved with a nefarious group of criminals a little over a decade ago..."

Marvolo's face contorted into one of ferocity. "Death Eaters! People have been saying that Bellatrix is a Death Eater? Have they no shame?" he questioned, hands pale as they were clenched into fists. "They have obviously never met her, because she is one of the most sweetest women you could ever meet! You should see how she dotes on her son; she is the epitome of mothering!"

Fudge was flustering even more under the intense gaze of Marvolo's steely eyes, whilst Lucius was trying hard not to laugh uproariously at Marvolo's comments, especially since he could see the amusement in his Lord's eyes. However, the task of ensuring that Fudge did not give himself palpations fell to Lucius. So, with a heavy sigh, the Malfoy spoke up.

"Marvolo, please take no offence of Minister Fudge," Lucius smoothly interjected, "He was not Minister during the birth of these rumours, and he has tried valiantly to prevent them from being spread further."

Fudge nodded in assent with Lucius' words, whilst Marvolo visibly calmed himself, and offered the Minister a somewhat apologetic smile (Lucius almost choked). "Please accept my apologies, Minister," Marvolo charmingly implored, whilst offering a short bow. "I merely grow infuriated with these mindless comments."

Fudge patted Marvolo's arm somewhat nervously. "It is understandable, Lord Slytherin, I myself, would take offence if people were besmirching the good name of a friend."

"Thank you, Minister." Marvolo smiled charmingly once more. "And please, call me Marvolo." The Minister made to protest, but Marvolo only smiled further. "Please, I insist."

"Oh, very well," Fudge proclaimed in an obvious show of reluctance. "But only if you call me Cornelius."

"Of course. Now Cornelius, if you do not mind me asking, what is the purpose behind your visit to Hogwarts'? I imagine that the schedule of the Minister of Magic is extremely hectic, and that you would not have to deal with such trifles such as education."

A delighted smile crossed Fudge's face, as the opportunity to rectify his earlier mistake presented itself. "My schedule is rather busy, yes, however the children _do _come first. They are our most treasured things in this world."

Marvolo nodded rather magnanimously. "I understand, but is there a problem at the school? Or is this merely a routine check?"

"I am afraid that a complaint has been made to the Board of School Governor's. Something about a prank that has gone unpunished."

Lucius cast a _tempus_, and interrupted rather apologetically. "I am sorry, Minister, however our appointment is in five minutes."

"Goodness me!" Fudge exclaimed, "Let's make our way there!" He set off towards the castle at a quick pace, and Lucius and Marvolo easily matched. Fudge glanced at Marvolo. "Yes, as I was saying. This prank, well, apparently students were being _petrified_ and the staff were unable to discover the culprit."

"Petrified?" Marvolo questioned in outrage, "But the cure takes months to create, and only a skilled potions master is able to brew it! One mistake, and the potion is poisonous! How could…wait…" Marvolo paused as a look of realisation passed over his face. "Does Severus work here? I know he said that he worked in education, but I only just made the connection."

Fudge's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Severus Snape? Well, yes, he does work at Hogwarts'. I must confess that I am surprised that you know him."

"Are you really?" Marvolo asked, "I have known Severus ever since he was a boy at Hogwarts'. He is the youngest Potions Master in recorded history. Hogwarts' must be extremely honoured to have him bestowing his knowledge upon the students."

"Yes! Quite right!" Fudge hurriedly agreed. "He is a good man. He was the one to write into the Board in fact, though we cannot let the Headmaster find out, all complaints are anonymous you see." Fudge discreetly tapped the side of his nose with a wink. "He discovered that these pranks…_crimes_… had not been reported to the Ministry, and sought action."

"Ah yes, that does indded sound like Severus," Marvolo fondly agreed, "He has always been respectful of the Ministry and the routine." Fudge beamed even wider, and Lucius attempted to prevent the gales of laughter wanting to burst out. Marvolo sent him a conspiratorial glance over Fudge's head.

"Oh look, there is Albus and Professor McGonagall!" Fudge declared, and the two Slytherins glanced in the direction the Minister was looking in.

Marvolo withheld the sneer threatening to break, and instead commented. "What an…unusual…choice of robes."

Fudge chuckled deeply. "Yes, he does have the oddest sense, doesn't he?"

The Headmaster raised his arms in greeting at the Minister, and shook his hand with fever. "Cornelius! It is good to see you again, old friend!"

Cornelius cleared his throat, and sent a nervous glance in his two companions' direction. "Yes, well, I am afraid I am here in the official capacity."

Dumbledore only nodded sadly, and turned his attention to Lucius. "And Lord Malfoy, I have not seen you in quite a while. It is quite strange to see young Draco roaming the halls, when I can remember you doing so also, not so long ago."

Lucius smiled tightly at the man. "I suppose that when one is such established fixture at this esteemed school, then one does have the tendency to let the mind wander," Lucius replied slowly, his eyes cold and hard.

Dumbledore smiled jovially. "Well, a little wandering is good for the health, Lucius. You must try it sometime!"

Lucius sneered. "I will certainly retain the suggestion."

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the two men, before his eyes fell upon Marvolo, and his expression hardened somewhat. "Tom? Why it is such a surprise to see you, and so young, and in such company."

Marvolo smiled charmingly at the Headmaster. "I am ever so sorry, sir, but I am afraid that you must be mistaken. I am not this 'Tom' of whom you are referring to."

Dumbledore waved the words away, and fixed a gimlet stare to the man. "Nonsense, Tom. There is no need to pretend, I know very well who you are."

"I am afraid that you do not," Marvolo repeated ardently, "My name is not Tom."

"Really, my boy. Must you always be so difficult?" Dumbledore asked, after releasing a weary sigh.

Marvolo's irritated face caught the Minister's attention, and he intervened. "Albus, please let me introduce you to Marvolo Riddle, Lord Slytherin."

Shock painted Dumbledore's face, before he quickly hid it with a kind smile. "Oh, I am every so sorry… Marvolo, was it? I am afraid I must have gotten you confused with a past student of mind, Thomas Riddle."

The Dark Lord nodded, with an understanding smile. "My father's name was Thomas Riddle," he offered.

"You look very much like him," Minerva spoke her first words of the conversation, and Marvolo turned his stared onto her.

"Do I really?"

The Scottish witch nodded grimly, "Yes, you are almost identical to him, even your voices sound similar, though you do have a slight accent that I am unable to place."

"I have lived in Albania for the majority of my youth."

Minerva nodded once more, "You even act like him. He was very charming, very suave, kind to almost everyone, but he did have a temper and he was very powerful. He wasn't someone who you would want to make an enemy out of."

A swell of emotion seemed to seize the dark-haired man, and the witch gave him a worried stare. He regarded her with watery eyes, "Forgive me this moment's weakness, ma'am, but it is so nice to hear about my father." A questioning look was on the witch's face, whilst Fudge looked sympathetic to his plight. "He died when I was a babe, so I have no memories of him, only a few photos. Mother spoke of him often, but she was dead by the time I was four, and her family did not know him very well. So being able to learn about him, from someone who actually knew him…forgive me."

Marvolo's voice cracked towards the end, and Lucius' smirk was dying to break free when Minerva hurried to Lord Slytherin's side. "Shall we, ah, discuss the reason behind our visit, Minister?" Lucius' suggested in his usual silky voice, and Fudge hurriedly nodded.

"Yes, now Albus, I am afraid due to your failure of reporting these petrification incidents to the Ministry, I am afraid that an inquisition will take place."

"Petrification incidents?" Dumbledore enquired, with raised eyebrows. "Ho! I rather think that someone has exaggerated this harmless childish prank."

"A prank?" Marvolo asked incredulously, "Forgive me for speaking out, Minister, but the curse for petrification is not harmless. If the treatment is not administered within six months of cursing, it will cause permanent paralysis and any longer than that period proves fatal. Additionally, this curse was forbidden by the Ministry under the decree of 1754."

Fudge's eyebrows drew together in consternation, whilst a moue formed on Dumbledore's face. Minerva stared aghast at her employer. "You said that the curse was a variation on stupefy." She whispered accusingly, and Marvolo shook his head.

"I am afraid not, ma'am, you are extremely lucky that you have Severus under your employ, otherwise the students petrified would have had grim chances."

Minerva nodded slowly, and murmured a faint agreement.

"Excuse me, but who are you to be involved in school matters?"

Fudge gaped at the man, and took a step towards Lucius, so as to create a greater distance between himself and the Headmaster. Marvolo smiled a predatory smile at the elderly wizard, "I am ever so sorry, Headmaster, did you mishear the Minister's kind introduction? My name is Marvolo Riddle, the Lord Slytherin, and as such I own a quarter of this castle's land, monies, and heirlooms."

"Impossible!" Dumbledore gasped, "I would know if Hogwarts heirs receive any power outside of their vaults!"

Marvolo raised an eyebrow in question, "And why would that be, Headmaster? Have you had regular conversation with any Hogwarts heirs?"

"Of course not! There hasn't been one since 1831!"

"Then why do you believe you deserve to know? You are merely a caretaker of this castle, you do not _own _her."

Dumbledore was spluttering in disbelief, and Fudge cleared his throat. "Right, well…Just as Lord Slytherin stated, the petrification curse is a forbidden curse, and this crime must be investigated. Aurors shall be arriving tomorrow morning at 9 'o'clock to interrogate all staff and students with vertiaserum."

Dumbledore's face was thunderous. "I forbid the use of veritaserum on my students! It is illegal to dose a minor!"

Lucius smiled widely at the Headmaster. "It is illegal to administer veritaserum to a minor, yes, but that is _without _permission from Wizengamot. I am afraid, that Wizengamot have agreed to its use."

"Preposterous! I am the Head of Wizengamot, I would have been present for this alleged meeting."

Fudge glanced nervously at the fuming Headmaster, before taking a calming breath. "Yes, well…Due to you not being eliminated from our enquiries, I am afraid that you were unable to be present in the authorisation of this decision."

"I see…" the elderly wizard murmured, blue eyes twinkling with anger. "I do not agree with this, Cornelius, but I see no other option but to allow it to happen." And with those words, the Headmaster spun upon his heel and stalked into the opposite direction.

Minerva turned to face the three men with a worried frown. "I am sorry about the Headmaster."

"Nonsense!" Fudge declared loudly, whilst smiling at the witch. "You need not apologise for actions which weren't your own."

"Regardless," the woman made to protest further, but Marvolo spoke up.

"I am ever so sorry, ma'am, but would you mind terribly if I had a look round the castle?" the innocent question made Lucius want to laugh. Had his Lord's machinations always been this amusing?

The stern witch shook her head, "Feel free, Lord Slytherin, like you said to the Headmaster you _do_ own a quarter of the castle." Marvolo smiled softly, and Lucius saw Minerva returning the smile with one of her own. "Would you like me to show you round? I could tell you more about your father if you wish?"

Marvolo's smile brightened, and he bowed deeply at the witch. "Ma'am, I gladly accept your offer. Thank you."

Minerva waved the words away, and gestured for the man to follow her. "Come now, Lord Slytherin. Goodbye Minister. Lord Malfoy," she called respectfully, before leading Marvolo and herself towards the staircase.

"Tell me, Lucius," the Minister called worriedly, casting a wary look at the departing Slytherin Lord. "How powerful is Lord Slytherin?"

"He is one of the most powerful men I have ever met, Minister." Lucius answered truthfully, allowing his awe and respect to flow into his voice. Fudge nodded to himself.

"I suppose that supporting Albus would be a foolhardy error now that Lord Slytherin has entered the political arena?"

Lucius allowed a genuine smile to stretch his features. "It would be very foolhardy, yes. Marvolo has much clout in Wizengamot and in the Ministry, and he is bringing change to Britain. Some people, like the Headmaster, would oppose this movement but I am afraid that they will only fail in their ventures."

Fudge glanced around thoughtfully, before patting Lucius softly on the arm. "Thank you, Lucius. Your advice is, as always, greatly appreciated."

Lucius smiled warmly at the Minister, and watched as the man left the castle, before he allowed his smirk to blossom. Merlin, change was on the wind. He could all but taste it. _'Welcome to the arena, Lord Slytherin.'_

* * *

><p>The Aurors arrived promptly the following day. They marched into the Great Hall to the surprise of many, and a cacophony of whispers. If one were to glance around the hall, they would see that the enchanted ceiling was a delightful blue, with the clouds light and shapely, the staff confused or approving, and the face of Albus Dumbledore set in stone.<p>

Lessons were cancelled for the day, and the students were sorted into their Houses, and then sub-sorted into their year. The aurors asked two questions to each child.

_Have you ever cast the petrification curse?_

_Do you know who cast the petrification curse?_

The answer from every student was a decisive 'no', and the bewildered aurors wrote their report, with a growing sense of foreboding and dread. For, if none of the students or staff cast the spell upon these students, then who did? It seemed that Hogwarts' wasn't quite as safe as Dumbledore had proclaimed.

The Minister of Magic subsequently led an enquiry into the safety of the school, aided by the honourable Lord Slytherin, who happily provided plans of the castle and its grounds. The findings of this enquiry were less than desirable, and very much publicised.

_**Hogwarts' security compromised. Are our children safe?**_

The headline shocked many parents to the core, and wrote many letters…and howlers, demanding the Headmaster of his lack of action. The rising reporter of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter, wrote the damning article, with Ministry-censored facts relating to the shortcoming of Hogwarts' safety, and the helpful information supplied by the equally helpful Lord Slytherin.

Dumbledore was _very _put out about the public reception of the article. Of course, he had the support of many of his followers. Augusta Longbottom, for example, had been very vocal about this 'disrespectful show of events', whilst Sirius Black ranted and raved about how 'Hogwarts' was really secure' because it took him and his friends 'three years to learn how to sneak out of it'.

Needless to say, the worry and anger of the masses outweighed most of the support Dumbledore had in the Department of Education. Due to this, most of his influence in the Ministry had dwindled to only one sector, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, because the fiasco with the Potters earlier in the year, had caused him to lose his support in the Department of Child Protective Services.

The arrival of Lord Slytherin had spun heads too, but for an entirely different reason. His charming and suave nature caused many to flock to him like flies to honey. This, added to his subtle flaunting of wealth (dragonhide boots, silk shirts, designer robes), mysterious history, and two seats in Wizengamot (Slytherin and Pevrell) caused him to become the most eligible bachelor in Wizarding Britain (as voted by Witch's Weekly).

The Minister of Magic, Lord Slytherin and several Ward Masters met regularly to detail new plans for Hogwarts' security, which were to be implemented during the holidays, in time for when the term recommenced in September. However, this did not assuage the public but instead caused a greater outcry.

Lord Slytherin's sharp (but not accusing) questioning over the sorry state of affairs, only seemed to whip the crowds into a greater frenzy. The question was no longer 'what caused the wards to deteriorate?' but 'why did it go unnoticed for so long?' and 'how bad must the wards have been if it needed the attention of the Minister of Magic?'

And like many cases involving the safety of children, everything seemed to grow and convalesce to the point of no matter whose fault it was, the Ministry could always be blamed. _Why were there no investigations to this prior? Why was there no regular maintenance of the wards? Why did the Ministry not demand mandatory reports each year?_

The questions and accusations only increased in ferocity and frequency, until the Minister himself was receiving howlers, condemning him for his lack of action. Cornelius Fudge was growing irritated and impatient, before a suggestion came from Lord Slytherin to issue a public apology. To be contrite, and to accept part of the blame, but in such a way, that it caused the Minister to be viewed as a fair and just man.

_I apologise profusely for this negligence. Half a century ago, the last _Headmaster's Report _was issued by the late Headmaster Dippet. The Headmaster's report was an annual request for the wards surrounding Hogwarts Castle to be reviewed by the Ministry Ward-Masters. This practice has been overlooked, and I can only apologise for not investigating this matter sooner. I promise you, however, that I will never allow such misdemeanour to occur again. Thank you._

Minister Fudge, considered the apology as a success. The howlers stopped almost instantly, and he could safely walk Diagon Alley without fearing for another scowl or ferocious glare. As Fudge examined a stall selling roses, he idly wondered if Lord Slytherin would accept a bouquet of flowers as a show of his gratitude.

* * *

><p>Ginny frowned as a gaggle of third-year Hufflepuffs shook their heads worriedly at her. "Oh, okay. Thanks." She murmured, closing the compartment door with a quiet 'click'. "Where could he be?"<p>

"Ginny!" a familiar voice called, and she spotted the friendly grin of Fred (or was it George?) poking his head from the next compartment. "What are you up to?"

"Yeah?" George (or was it Fred?) stuck his head out, so that it rested upon his twin's. "What are you doing?"

Frowning even more, she quickly moved towards her brothers, and they opened the compartment door with a flourish and wide grins. Their grins, however, turned into concerned looks as they saw the state their sister was in.

"Has something happened, Gin? Have you heard from, Mum?" the two scowled ferociously at the mention of their mother, and Ginny shook her head.

"No, no," she shook her head, and stood nervously in the doorway. "Have you seen Andras? He went to find the trolley-lady, because I missed breakfast," she flushed red at the suggestive looks they sent her. "That was an hour ago though."

The two settled down, and regarded her solemnly. "I'm sorry, sis, we haven't seen him."

"We'll keep an eye out for him though," the closest twin assured. "Have you-"

"Asked Lestrange and Malfoy? They are friends with Andras aren't they?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah, they were the first people I went to. They're searching the other end of the train."

The twins nodded, obviously expecting the answer. "What about the trolley-lady. Has she seen him?"

"No." She blinked hard to stop her eyes from watering.

"Hmmm… So he never turned up then? What about the toilets?"

"Yeah, have you been checking them?"

Ginny felt like she had been slapped in the face. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "I didn't think to…" she trailed off. "Right. Thanks for the help." She grasped the door-handle, but before she could leave, one of the twins called her back.

"If you haven't found him in the next fifteen minutes, come find us, yeah?"

The other boy nodded. "Yeah, come find us, Gin, and we'll help search for him."

Ginny blinked even harder, but she couldn't keep the waver out of her voice as she replied. "Yeah… Thanks."

Gred and Feorge shared a sad smile, and tapped her lightly on the arm. "Chin up, Gin. You'll find him."

The girl only nodded, and rubbed roughly at her eyes, before leaving the compartment. "The toilets," she murmured to herself, as she strode towards the end of the carriage. Glancing at the door, she saw that it was engaged. _'Well this could potentially be terribly embarrassing,' _she thought to herself, before knocking on the door. "Andras? Are you in there?"

An awkward silence permeated the air, and Ginny wished the ground would just open up beneath her and swallow her whole. _'Obviously not. Why did I take the twins' advice?' _"Right…er…sorry about that," she called through the door, face aflame in embarrassment, as she mentally cursed herself more for listening to her brothers.

She was so lost in her diatribe that she almost missed a small voice call her name. "Andras?" she enquired again, and the lock of the door was disengaged as a response. Hesitantly, she opened the door. "Who the hell did this to you?" she almost screamed at her friend, as she dashed into the toilet and locked the door behind her.

Andras flinched at her loudness, and it felt like a blow to the stomach. Softening her gaze, she hurried to her friend's side, and enveloped him in a hug. Andras shook in her arms, and faint sniffles could be heard from him every other breath. "Hush…you don't need to talk. It's okay…" Ginny soothed gently, but her hazel eyes promised pain to whoever put her dear friend in this state.

Andras struggled in her grip, and she released him, but didn't move away. "I'm not weak!" he declared hotly, and Ginny felt the stirrings of empathy and fury rise in her chest.

"Of course you're not weak, Andras!" she declared, "You are the smartest and most powerful boy in our year; you're probably on par with Lestrange and Malfoy!"

Watery amber eyes met hers, and he scowled. "But they don't cry! Samael has faced so much pain in his life, and I've never seen _him _cry!" Andras retorted, face growing red as shame and anger took hold. "And this stupid little prank has me weeping in the toilets! I'm pathetic! I probably deserve to be called Snivilus!"

"No you don't!" Ginny shouted in return, "How could you think so low of yourself? You are the bravest person I know," Andras snorted in contempt, and she narrowed her eyes at him, before she gently shook his arm. "You are my best friend, Andras. If you can't cry in front of me, then who can you cry in front of?"

Ginny's voice implored him to understand, but he only shook he head in denial. "I don't want to be weak…not in front of you." Hurt bloomed in Ginny's chest, and those tears that were bothering her in the compartment were returning now. "I…I want to be strong…I don't want you to think me weak."

Ginny relaxed at the words, and she couldn't stop the tears from falling now. "For being a Ravenclaw, you sure are stupid sometimes!" she choked out between sniffles, and at the sound of her crying, Andras immediately stared at her with worry and concern.

"What are you crying for? Are you hurt?" he questioned rapidly, hands raised as if to search her for any injuries.

"No!" the red-head huffed a laugh, "I've been so worried…and you're being an adorable idiot…and Gods, I'm just so glad you're my friend."

Andras' face scrunched up into a confused moue, and Ginny withheld a giggle, since she didn't think it would be appreciated. "I do not follow."

"Oh, Andras," she bemoaned quietly, "Crying doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong. It shows that you care, and being able to cry makes you a better man. Girls like that, you know. It's obvious to everyone that you're a great wizard, but crying tells me that you're a good man."

"If I'm so great, then how come I couldn't stop _this_?" he asked self-deprecatingly, as he swept a hand down his body, from pink hair, to pink skin, to pink robes.

Ginny only shook her head. "Did they curse you from behind, Andras?" she asked sagely, and the Andras slowly nodded. Ginny released an exasperated huff. "Well that explains it then! Only sixth-years and above learn how to detect invisible spells, so you can't expect to learn it yet!"

Andras nodded, but Ginny knew that he was still doubting himself. "I'm sure that if you ask your father then he will help you." The raven-haired boy mumbled something that Ginny didn't catch. "What was that, Andras?"

"I don't want my Father to know," he grudgingly replied, and Ginny shot him an unimpressed look. "He'll blow everything out of proportion! He'll deduct points, and put them in detention, and it will only make things worse! And I dread to think what my Dad would do."

"You should be dreading what _I _will do, Andras," she declared, "Oh, and Malfoy, he is rather protective of you, isn't he? And Lestrange, he seems the type to plan his revenge. And let's not forget, Luna and Hermione of course. I'm pretty sure, that between the five of us, we could truly make those prats cry."

Andras only snuffled, and Ginny sighed. "You're going to have to tell your parents, Andras. Yes, they will be angrily, rightfully so, but they'll know that this is a battle you'll have to face alone. Well," she trailed off, "Alone, as in you'll have to solve it without their help. _But_, the gang and I shall be there for you. Always."

Andras raised an eyebrow. "The gang? I wasn't aware that we had formed one."

"Well, I may not have formally invited anyone into it. But we are one, aren't we? I mean, sure Lestrange and Malfoy are pretty distant to everyone but you, but they have our backs, and we have theirs."

"Oh," was all Andras said, and Ginny smiled at the happiness in that single syllable, before pulling the stunned boy into another hug. Squeezing his shoulders, she pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"Stay here, alright? I'm going to get the twins," Andras' eyes widened in surprise and denial, and Ginny cursed softly. "Andras, knowing the twins, they are probably the ones who invented the hex, or they'll at least know the counter-hex. Okay?"

Andras slowly nodded, his amber eyes closing, before a small smile flitted across his face. "M'kay," he murmured softly, and Ginny smiled in return. "Good, now sit tight, and I'll be back before you know it."

With that, she hurried from the toilet, (ignoring the stares from other students), and flung the door to her brothers' compartment open. Their friend, Lee Jordan, had joined them, but she ignored him in favour of fixing her sternest stare upon the twins. "Come with me, and you better hope that you know the counter to this, and you better bloody not have taught it to Ron, or you'll be getting a taste of what I've learnt from the Slytherins, 'kay?"

Her saccharine sweet voice didn't match the glare she was sending them, and the two identical red-heads gulped and followed after their sister. "Well?" she questioned, as they stood awkwardly in front of the toilet, "Get in there!"

"Err, Gin, I don't think we'll all fit…" one of the twins bravely stated, and Ginny glared at him.

"You better bloody well try to fit in there then!" she snarled, and shoved them both in there, befor squeezing in as well. _'Well they were right, I don't think we do all fit,'_ she thought, as her back w dug uncomfortably into the sink.

"Bloody Merlin, Snape, who did this? We only prank people who know they're fair game, or if they're in large groups."

His brother nodded; an annoyed frown on his face. "We never single a person out, that's just not on."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the two, and they feigned a hurt look. "Yes, you two have upstanding morals. Now do you know the counter or not?"

The twins hurriedly nodded, and pulled their wands from the other's sleeves with a grin. "Now, now. Just relax, Gin, we'll have lover boy back to his beautiful self in not time!" George (or was it Fred?) declared, and he easily dodged the tickling spell being thrown his way.

The other twin swung his arm round he shoulders, and leant down to wink at the stunned and red-faced Andras. "Yeah, you better be treating her right! She's pretty sweet on you!" he stage-whispered, laughing uproariously as Ginny pointed her wand at his chest.

"Just, shut the hell up Fred!" she demanded, absolutely refusing to meet Andras' eyes.

"Fred?" the twin whose Ginny's wand was aimed at questioned incredulously, hurt evident on his face. "I'm George!"

"And I'm Fred!" the other twin declared, wrapping his brother in a one-armed hug. "Honestly, you call yourself our sister?"

The brothers smiled a Cheshire-cat smile at the exasperated scream that left Ginny's throat. "Now, let's get you fixed up now, eh, lover boy?" they spoke simultaneously, and Andras couldn't help but feel a slither of fear strike him at their grinning faces.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well this is a strange Boxing Day, isn't it? Well, I'm sorry for the late update (again), but at least I'm only five days late this time (hooray)!

I'm sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes! Thanks everyone, have a great new year!


	25. Facing the Past

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

Warning: spoiler for Dance Inside

* * *

><p><span>Facing the Past<span>

_You're gonna meet some strangers_

_Welcome to the zoo_

_Bitter disappointments_

_Except for one or two_

_Go Gentle – Robbie Williams_

* * *

><p>"Samael," said boy glanced up from his Potions textbook at the sound of his mother's nervous voice. Bellatrix stood a couple of feet away, her painted nails fiddling with the cuff of Rodolphus' sleeve, whilst Rodolphus stood stiffly, swiftly darting his eyes between Samael and Bellatrix.<p>

Samael frowned at the sight of his obviously anxious parents, and closed the book to give them his full undivided attention. "Yes, mother?"

Bellatrix moved forward (dragging a reluctant Rodolphus with her), and took a seat opposite her son. "Rodolphus and I have been discussing an idea whilst you have been away at school, and we are hoping that you will agree with it," Bellatrix began, "Of course, you do not have to agree to it. I don't want to pressure you into anything, and it would pain me to know if I had forced you into a decision you did not wish to make. So, don't feel as if you must agree to it if you don't want to, because-"

"Enough, Bella," Rodolphus instructed, whilst placing a calming hand upon his wife's. "What your mother is trying to say, Samael, is would you be willing to be blood adopted by us?"

Emerald eyes widened, and Samael allowed shock to set into his bones. Seeing this, Bellatrix let out a small whine of distress, her hazel eyes shining with unshed tears. Rodolphus' hand only tightened on hers.

"Yes," the whispered word was hoarse, and Samael's own eyes were bright as a wavering smile flittered across his face. Immediately, Bellatrix's head shot up and stared at Samael with such hope that it caused his heart to lurch. Nodding to emphasise his words, his smile became more certain. "Yes. I would love to be blood adopted by you both."

Bellatrix released a sound that was reminiscent of a squeal, and launched from her seat to wrap Samael in her arms. "Oh! I can…My son…!" and with those words, the tears erupted from her eyes, and she began sobbing into Samael's shoulder.

Samael began to awkwardly pat the woman on the back, and sent Rodolphus a pleading look over his mother's shoulder. The elder wizard only chuckled, grabbed Bellatrix around the waist, and gently pulled her from the teenage boy.

"Come on, Bella," he urged affectionately, "Let's try not to suffocate our soon-to-be blood son."

"He will be won't he? He'll be our son, our _real _son," she breathed in awe, and was about to leap Samael into another bone-crushing hug, so Rodolphus tightened his grip on her. She turned in his grasp, and pouted at him.

Wide, emerald eyes observed their interaction with a small smile. "What would the ritual entail?" he enquired hesitantly, as he was unwilling to break the comfortable, familiar silence that had blanketed the room.

Rodolphus smiled down at his wife, who uncurled herself from his side and faced Samael. "Your father and I shall slice our palm open, say the ritual words and press them to you skin. Just as My Lord did when you were a babe."

Samael rose an eyebrow, "So, there will be nothing for me to do in return?"

Bella shook her head, "No, no. You need not _do _anything, but you must _be _willing."

"The results should be immediate," Rodolphus stated, "Your appearance may alter, but you shall now be of Lestrange and Black blood, just as you are of Slytherin and Potter blood."

Samael sneered at the remembrance of his true birth name, but pushed the anger away to nod at his father. "I understand. I do not resemble a child of the Potter line, I believe that Marvolo's influence is the cause of that. Whatever this adoption does, I shall be content to be a true Lestrange."

Bellatrix's shining eyes watered further, and Samael sent Rodolphus a desperate glance to keep her at bay. Rodolphus chuckled warmly once more, and nodded to the teen in agreement. Samael sighed in relief.

"Samael," Rodolphus called. "It is also worth mentioning that certain…traits can be passed along during a blood adoption. It is rare, but not unheard of."

A thoughtful look crossed Samael's face. "That would explain my ability of parseltongue and my…musical talents."

Rodolphus smiled a small smile. "It would, yes. The Lestrange sadly does not have any blood gift, however the Black line does. Metamorphogi and seeing are all blood gifts from the Black line."

"My niece is a metamorphogus," Bella contributed, "I met her once when she was five, she turned her hair blue and began singing about Cornish Piskies," A small smirk crossed the witch's face. "She was quite entertaining."

Samael's eyebrows rose into his eyebrows at the description. "I can imagine."

"It's such a shame that her father is a Muggleborn," Bellatrix mused, with a wrinkle of her nose "Though I suppose that he's better than a Muggle. And from what I remember he is a good man to my sister and can cast powerful curses."

"When was the last time you saw your sister, mother? You sound wistful, as if you wish to meet her again," Samael observed, with a small frown. "There is no reason for you not to visit her, as you are no longer a wanted criminal."

"I…" the witch faltered, her hazel eyes wide in a mixture of confusion, hope, and worry. "I don't know actually. I'll floo her after the adoption, and see if she wishes to meet me…us." She cast a small smile at her son and husband.

Rodolphus was frantically shaking his head behind his wife's back, and Samael tried hard to withhold a snort of amusement. Though, from his experience with Narcissa and Bellatrix in the same room, he supposed his father may have a point. Samael didn't say this aloud of course, instead he declared with a cheerful voice: "Of course, mother. Father and I would be delighted to see Aunt Andromeda, won't we?"

Samael directed the question towards Rodolphus, and the man visibly shivered under the identical expectant and slightly crazed (though he wouldn't point this out) looks he was getting from wife and son.

The wizard was nodding before he even opened his mouth. "Of course I would!"

Bellatrix smiled widely. "Wonderful! When do you wish to perform the ritual, Samael? We could do it now, later, tomorrow, next week, any time you wish, darling."

Samael stared at Bellatrix's delighted face, and Rodolphus' contented one. "Today," he murmured quietly, "After dinner." Smiling hesitantly back at his beaming mother.

* * *

><p>Scarred fingers idly traced the brand label, before settling upon the supermarket's own. Honestly, Severus wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the cheapest tinned tomatoes and the imported ones from Italy. To be more exact, Severus wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Muggle shop-bought tomatoes and fresh tomatoes Remus had boiled himself. And what Severus didn't know wouldn't hurt him on the tomato front.<p>

"It's not my fault the greengrocer in Diagon fell ill on our anniversary…" he mumbled softly to himself, before a small smile settled on his face. It was fourteen years ago on this day that Remus found Severus again, poured his entire conscience on the heartbroken Snape, and uttered the six words Severus had been dying to hear. _I've fallen in love with you._

Glancing down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands, the words 'peppers, onions, and minced beef' glared up at him in hurriedly scrawled writing. Remus supposed he would have to get the vegetables from the Muggle supermarket too. How long did Muggle food last anyway? Withholding an annoyed huff, Remus attempted to navigate the store's aisles via large overhead signs.

A screaming child in a metal trolley demanded a tin of chocolate fudge icing, whilst its harassed mother wheeled the boy down the aisle. Remus grimaced at the sight, and thanked Merlin that Andras had never been _that _demanding as a child. A pleasant female voice echoed throughout the store, calling some employee to the service desk, causing Remus to wince and rub his tingling ears.

As he scanned the refrigerated shelf for parmesan cheese, Remus did not notice a tall figure staring at him. Nor did he notice said person marching towards him with a wide grin on his unshaven face.

That was, he did not notice until. "Mooney!" Remus froze, his arm still stretched out to grab the cheese, as the man slapped the werewolf on the back. "It's good to see you!"

Rage erupted in Remus' belly, the roaring fury of a wronged man, as he whirled around with narrowed eyes and feral snarl. "Sirius," he stiffly broke out. "Get your hand off me."

Confusion spread across the Black's face, as the wizard retracted his hand with a frown. "Mooney, I…what-"

"Don't!" Remus commanded with a sneer, "Don't you dare act confused!"

"Remus, I honestly don't know what's the matter," Sirius confessed, placing his shopping basket on the floor. And took another step towards Remus. The werewolf growled and took a step back.

"You don't know what the matter is?" Remus' voice was incredulous, "You put me in a coma for seven months!"

Sirius looked as if he had been slapped, his expression one between guilt and anger. "Can't we get passed that? Let bygones be bygones and everything?"

Remus took a threatening step towards the ashen-faced Sirius. "No! I will not forgive you for turning on me, your supposed best friend. I will never forget how you stupefied me, put me in some arcane sadistic ritual, and then abandoned me at Mungoes!" Remus' face was red with anger, as he bared his sharp canines at the wizard. "You never even had the gall to face me."

"Sorry?" the dark-haired wizard ventured, before wincing as Remus snarled once more and took another advancing step. "Listen, I'm sorry, Mooney. We never should have tried that ritual without consulting you."

If anything, Remus grew more enrages. "Consulting me? You shouldn't have had to _consult _me, Sirius, you just had to _accept _me. I was _gay_ and I still am _gay_, you cannot change that."

Sirius' eyebrows rose in surprise. "It wasn't just a phase then?" he enquired aloud, "But it's not natural…"

"Homosexuality is completely natural, Sirius! As is falling in love. And I was very much in love with a man when you involved me in that ritual."

The wizard's eyebrows drew in concentration and confusion. "But you weren't dating! You didn't have a….boy…_friend._" Sirius floundered for the correct word.

Remus released an irritated sigh. "No. I did not have a boyfriend, but I was in love with a man. I am still in love with that man, and today is our fourteenth anniversary. So could you please just get out of my way, Sirius?"

Sirius' stance faltered slightly, sadness lining his face, before he straightened his back. "No," Sirius declared wildly. "I will not let you leave us again. You were my best friend and you just disappeared! I thought you had died!"

"I nearly did die!" Remus roared back, fury returning tenfold at Sirius' obstinacy. "Don't you understand? You and James nearly killed me! I was in a coma for seven months! I still have the scars from that day! So excuse me for not running back to you like some lost puppy."

"Remus," Sirius' pained voice implored, but Remus merely glared.

"Leave. Me. Alone!" Remus demanded through gritted teeth, before grabbing his basket and shoving past his ex-friend. However, Sirius would not relent and doggedly pursued Remus down the aisle.

"Remus!" Sirius called, hurrying towards the sandy-haired man and pulling him roughly by the arm. "Just hear me out, alright! I'm sorry! You're…gay…I don't think it's right but you're my friend and I'll stick by you."

Remus' green eyes widened fractionally before they narrowed. "You're too late, Sirius," Remus hissed, whilst yanking his arm from Sirius' grasp. "Too much bad blood is between us now, and I will never forgive you."

And with those words, Remus abandoned his basket at Sirius' feet and stormed towards the door.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Remus!" Sirius bellowed down the aisle. "Don't you dare! I'll follow you, I'll find out where you and your boyfriend are and I'll drag you back to Hogwarts with me!"

Furious green eyes glanced apologetically at all the nervous shoppers and shop-workers before glaring dangerously at Sirius. "If you ever threaten me again, I will ensure that you will regret it for the rest of your life," Remus menacingly declared, stalking towards Sirius like the dangerous predator he was. "And if you ever, _ever_, threaten my family again, I will personally put you in the ground myself. Do. You. Understand."

Remus was so close to Sirius, that he could see the other wizard's adam's apple bob with the saliva he was forced to swallow. Sweat beaded at the dark-haired man's brow, and Remus allowed a disgusted sneer to stretch his face.

"Please…" the word was broken, and Remus regarded him with neutral eyes. "Please…Come see Robbie, he'd love to see his Uncle Mooney."

"I am not that boy's uncle, Sirius. Don't you dare attempt to manipulate my emotions, because I do not give a monkeys about that boy."

Sirius' face scrunched in resignation, and nodded slowly. "Fine fine," he acquiesced. "Come to Hogwarts then! They have a position as D.A.D.A. professor, and it probably pays better than whatever you're earning now."

Remus scowled at the man. "No."

Sirius huffed, and dragged a hand through his tangled hair. "If it makes you feel better, Mooney, I don't teach there anymore," Sirius murmured, "Please…I want to make everything up to you. Consider this an apology gift."

"I don't want your pity, Sirius. I don't need this job. My partner earns more than we could ever need," Remus declared, but he instantly regretted those words as old feelings of shame rose in his gut.

Sirius' eyes widened in surprise. "So you're happy sponging off your partner?" he questioned with incredulity, then immediately waved his arms in the air in surrender when he saw Remus' pale furious face. "No! No, I didn't mean to make it sound like you were a gold-digger, Mooney. Of course you're not. It's just you always said how you wanted to teach and earn money for a family. It just surprised me to hear that you're happy with just your partner working!"

Remus remained silent for a few minutes. The crowd that had gathered slowly dissipated when it became clear that there was no longer potential for a punch up. However, a few did still cast nervous glances in their direction.

"I…" the sandy-haired man faltered, "I…Thank you for telling me of the vacancy, Sirius," he murmured, smiling sadly at the hope brimming in those grey eyes. "I accept that you want to make up for your past-behaviour, but I don't forgive you. You betrayed me, Sirius, and I...can't forget that."

"I…" Sirius' pitiful expression warmed the ice in Remus' heart for the man. "I'm so sorry, Remus."

The Werewolf only nodded. "You were my best-friend for nearly seven years, Sirius," Remus said softly, "So, do me a favour?" he asked, and Sirius nodded quickly, reminding Remus exactly how close a reflection Sirius was to his animagus. "Get yourself cleaned up. Stop drinking. Get a decent job. Save your money. Just…get your life sorted, yeah?"

To Remus' chagrin, tears began to swell in Sirius' eyes. "I…Thank you, Remus. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I just…I'm so sorry."

Remus nodded roughly. "So you've said, Sirius. But I won't ever forgive you."

Sirius' eyes were melancholic as they regarded his once best-friend. "I know."

Remus did not reply, he merely began walking towards the shop's exit. But then a thought struck him. "Sirius?" said man glanced up with doleful pupp-dog eyes. "I think it might be too late, but don't let Robert grow into James."

Pain crossed Sirius' face, but the dark-haired man nodded. "I'll try my best," he whispered quietly.

Remus supposed that was the most he could hope for.

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not!" Severus thundered, nostrils flaring as he stared his partner down. "How could you even contemplate this, Remus? You will be near that doddering old fool! He will try to manipulate you again!"<p>

Scarred hands slammed the cupboard door shut, as Remus whirled around to face his partner. "You don't trust me?" he questioned with anger. "You think that I'll be easily drawn back into Dumbledore's hold!"

Severus' sneered at the smaller wizard, and stalked closer towards him. "Do not put words into my mouth, Remus, you know that is not what I meant!"

"Well what did you mean then, Severus?" Remus replied hotly, his red face rising to meet Severus'. "It certainly sounded like you don't trust me. Like you don't trust my judgement."

Instantly, Severus' face crumpled in on itself, and he blindly reached for a kitchen chair. Moments passed in silence, and Remus' heavy panting, and the sound of Severus' face hitting his palms were the only sounds in the room. "I do trust you, Remus," Severus' murmured softly, whilst harshly tugging at his hair. "I…I just don't want you near him."

The anger immediately swept out from Remus.

"Severus…" Remus whispered, as he knelt on the floor between Severus' legs. He reached for Severus' hands, and pressed a chaste kiss on his racing pulse. "I'll be fine. Dumbledore won't hurt me. Besides, I'll have you looking out for me, won't I?"

Severus' harsh intake of breath told Remus that that wasn't the correct thing to say. "And what if I fail, Remus? What if I'm not enough to protect you from him? I wasn't able to protect you from Potter and Black was I? And I wasn't able to protect Andras from Potter and Weasley" he stated roughly, before hunching in on himself. "Gods, Remus," he hoarsely whispered. "What use am I if I am unable to protect you or Andras?"

"Shut up, Sev," Remus commanded roughly, squeezing Severus' knee as he did so. "Stop talking such utter bollocks. No, you weren't there to stop Potter's prank on Andras, because he was on the train home. And no, you weren't there when Sirius and James attacked me, but you were there _afterwards_. You were there when I was vulnerable, and you were there when I cried. You were there for me."

"It isn't enough, Remus. Don't you see?" Severus whispered into the dark room, "I wasn't able to protect you, either of you."

Remus squeezed Severus' knee harder. "Listen to me, Severus Snape. You need to understand that what happened to be wasn't your fault. I will beg you until I am blue in the face, but I know that it's a futile task." Remus released a slow breath, "So just promise me that you won't dwell on it any longer," Remus stated lowly. "It is in the past."

Severus opened his mouth to interject, but Remus quickly hurried on. "It pains me to say, but Andras must learn to fight his own battles. He is a very skilled wizard, and the extra training we've given him over the holidays means he can beat even the seventh-years now. Samael and Draco are his parents when we are not there, and that Ginny girl, well…" Remus trailed off with a fond smile, "From the sounds of her, she's a very fierce witch. And to Andras, she's most likely his angel."

Severus scowled like a child. "Fine."

Remus was surprised that Severus didn't cross his arms and stare surly at his feet.

"And frankly, I am happy that I was attacked," Remus admitted, smiling ever so softly at Severus' shocked face. "Because without the ritual, we wouldn't have gotten together, and we wouldn't have Andras, and both of us would be miserable sods."

Severus' face settled into one of dissatisfaction. And just because he could see Remus' reasoning, it didn't mean he had to like it. "I will try and desist with blaming myself," Severus announced, but they both knew that it wouldn't be a fruitful task.

Remus could settle with that. He didn't like it, but he would settle for it. So instead of frowning, he smiled. A smile so wide it scrunched Remus' green eyes and emphasised his red cheeks. He smiled the smile that Severus fell in love with.

"This teaching post then…" Remus let the words hang in the air.

Severus scowled at the kitchen tiles. "I am still adverse to the idea," he finally murmured.

Remus' smile softened at his petulant voice because, even though he would never tell Severus such, he secretly loved his childish side. "I understand, Sev, but I am still going to apply for the job," the sandy-haired wizard shuffled on his knees to a more comfortable position. "It was…_difficult_ last year," he admitted, and Severus' dark eyes locked onto his own in worry. "Yes I got to see you every night, Sev, and for that I am eternally grateful. But…Andras? He grew so much…How could he grow so much, Sev?"

He hurriedly wiped his stinging eyes, because _dammit_ he would _not _cry. And those beautiful black eyes were suspiciously bright as they solemnly stared into his own. Silent words echoing throughout the room. Of irritated nights with a screaming baby who refused to sleep. And days spent in blissful happiness with a giggling child.

A heavy hand settled into Remus' sandy hair, and the smaller man let his head fall on Severus' knee. "I don't know, Remus," Severus answered quietly.

Remus pressed a kiss to Severus' knee. "Thank you," the words catching in his throat, as he idly stroked Severus' leg. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Black eyes closed wearily, and the hand in Remus' hair continued its stroking.

* * *

><p>Draco glanced worryingly at the platform entrance. Just where was Samael? The train was going to leave in seven minutes, and the Lestrange family was nowhere to be seen. And how could his mother be so calm?<p>

Indeed, the regal form of Narcissa Malfoy was standing beside her son, chatting quietly to Zabini's mother about Lord Slytherin of all people.

"Yes, Marvolo is a very powerful wizard," he heard his mother state pleasantly enough, but with icy undertones. And judging on the sneer upon Lady Zabini's face, he supposed the other woman understood the implications.

_You wouldn't be able to defeat him. And your reputation precedes you, Black Widow._

Draco tried not to smirk at Blaise's outraged face, but once again attempted to search the crowds for the his friend. And because he was so distracted staring ahead of him, he didn't notice Samael smirking behind him. Cool lips brushed his ear, and a hushed "Dragon," startled him from his search.

Silver eyes widened in shock when they finally settled upon his friend. "Samael?" he questioned, and blushed ever so slightly at the smirk widening. "I was not aware the change would be this," Draco waved a hand down Samael's body, "Subtle."

Samael chuckled lightly and gently brushed a strand of Draco's hair behind his ear, causing Draco to lose himself momentarily in the smell of rain and sandalwood and something that was purely Samael. "The change is quite subtle," Samael readily agreed, "However it is still there."

Draco nodded. "Yes, your cheekbones are more prominent and your nose is slightly straighter. And I think," Draco paused, as he stared intently at Samael's face, "I think your eyes are a slightly darker green."

Samael gave Draco a look the blonde couldn't decipher, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I think you may be correct," absently raising a hand to touch his cheek. "The ritual seems to have caused Marvolo's and my father's features to become more prominent than the Potters and my mother's. The cheekbones are a Slytherin trait, and the nose is a Lestrange one."

"So you look like the secret love child of your brother and father?" a familiar voice cheekily asked, and the two Slytherins turned to the grinning face of Andras Snape.

"Andras!" Draco's scandalised voice admonished, and the unabashed boy laughed loudly. "Have some respect for your elders."

"Especially ones with homicidal tendencies, yeah?" he quipped, and Draco flushed an even deeper shade of red out of embarrassment and outrage. "Oh, calm down, Draco," the Snape sighed exasperatedly, "Look, Samael finds it funny. He's smirking!"

Draco did indeed look at Samael, and did indeed find him smirking. He scowled (Samael is adamant it was a pout), and the Lestrange rose a sculpted eyebrow at the Malfoy. "Do not fret so, Dragon," Samael said calmly, "Andras meant no harm, and I find your loyalty very commendable."

"What Samael means to say," Andras interrupted, "Is that he very much likes it when you defend his honour."

Samael was frowning, and Draco could almost swear there was a light dusting of pink on Samael's face. But that was impossible, and he furiously fought down the fluttering in his chest. "I am not a maiden," Samael stated dryly, and Andras smirked.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," the amber-eyed boy declared. "Fred taught me that one."

Samael sent Draco a pained expression. "I knew that I would regret meeting the Weasley twins," he deadpanned, and it, if anything, only caused Andras to smile even wider.

"Oh, Fred and George said that they might pop by for a chat," Andras supplied.

Draco would never tell Andras how that one sentence caused fear to strike him hard in the gut. Instead, he shared a horrified glance with Samael, and declared: "I can hardly contain my anticipation." Then moved a smidgen bit closer to the Lestrange and added. "We really should be getting on the train."

Samael agreed, and he and Draco guided the (now pouting) Andras onto the train. A small group of Slytherin fifth-years nodded at the three as they passed, and Samael smiled at that boy who gave him information sometimes. _'Cadmus Warrington,'_ Draco's mind helpfully supplied, and he withheld a snort of derision. _'What a stupid name. Who names their son _Cadmus _anyway?' _he thought, and smirked with smug satisfaction when the boy flinched under Draco's frigid stare.

After a quick walk through the coach, they discovered all the compartments were full, apart from one that held the delightful company of Hermione Granger and Robert Potter and, surprisingly, a sleeping Remus Lupin. Draco saw Samael draw in a deep breath, and reach for the door handle. Andras nudged Draco and silently mouthed for Draco to stop Samael. Draco felt dread settle in his stomach.

"Samael?" Draco questioned tentatively, and neutral emerald eyes settled upon him. "We will find another compartment, we do not need to share this one," he assured quietly, and Andras ardently nodded from beside him.

"I am not made of glass, Dragon," Samael stated firmly "I have spoken to Potter before, and I can easily out-manoeuvre him." Draco tried not to wince at the fury in Samael's voice, because it was Potter Samael was angered with, not him. "Besides," Samael continued in a calmer voice, "Granger is a delight to converse with, and Remus is a brilliant conversationalist."

"If you're sure," Draco spoke,

"I am," Samael assured, "You're worry is appreciated, Dragon, but it is unneeded."

'_Yes, it actually is!'_ Draco wanted to scream back at Samael, but he highly doubted it would be welcome. _'How can I not worry when the mere sight of the Potters causes you to tense and hatred to flash in your eyes?'_

Yes, Draco really didn't think those thoughts would be welcomed by Samael. So instead, he opened the door open for Samael and Andras to walk through.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter questioned harshly, "You're not wanted, get out!"

Hermione shifted in her seat next to Remus, and glared at the other Gryffindor. "I want Malfoy here, Robert!" she declared loudly, "Because, unlike you, he is able to be a polite and courteous person." She glanced at the three teens in the doorway, and smiled warmly. "Please do come in," she invited with the slightest hint of steel as she glared again at Potter.

Draco inclined his head towards the girl. "Thank you for the invitation, Granger," and sat beside Robert, and graced the Gryffindor with a grimace of disgust. Andras quickly followed suit, and sat beside Draco, which forced Samael to sit next to Hermione.

The only acknowledgement Samael made of this hurried manoeuvring was a raised eyebrow and a small smile.

"What the hell, Malfoy! Sit somewhere else!" the red-head demanded roughly, and pressed himself against the window so that his face was squished painfully against the glass.

Draco was sure this was just evidence for the boy's stupidity.

"No thank you, Potter," he stated with a pleasant smile, "You see, Granger so politely allowed me to share this compartment with her. And it would be terribly rude of me, if I sat beside her, because then I would be unable to look her in the eye when speaking to her."

"Yes, Draco has a wonderful point," Andras silkily stated, instantly switching into a mini-version of his father. "But I would not expect Potter to fully grasp the theory because, as I have previously discovered, his attention span is severely limited."

The Gryffindor flushed red with anger, and leapt from his seat, but found himself subject to four wands pointed at him, and sank back down with a glare. Draco nodded gratefully at Granger, and the girl smiled slightly in reply.

"This is Professor Lupin," Hermione broke the silence, with a small wave towards the sleeping form of Remus. "I believe he is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"And how do you know that?" Potter asked scornfully, and Hermione bristled in her seat.

"Well, Robert, if you would pay attention to your surroundings, you would see that there is a suitcase overhead with the label R J Lupin, so it really wasn't exactly a difficult deduction."

Andras smiled at the girl, and Samael released a small chuckle. Potter flushed an even deeper shade of red, and slumped in his seat.

"Hermione," Andras called, and the bushy-haired witch turned to glance curiously at the Snape, "Have you seen Ginny?"

Hermione smiled at the bashful boy, and shared a sly glance with Samael. "She was talking to the twins when I saw her. That was about twenty minutes ago, I think they were talking about Ron."

Draco snorted. _'Who would want to talk about Weasel?'_

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy!" Robert bellowed, and Draco couldn't help but smirk at the Gryffindor. "Bastard!" he screamed when Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Draco," a quiet voice murmured, and the blonde glanced at Samael warily, because Samael only ever sounded like this when he was upset. _'Or plotting,' _and he reminded himself that Samael was quite proficient at faking emotions in front of others. The Lestrange leaned forward to place a warm hand on Draco's knee, and something strange and new uncurled itself within his stomach at the touch. "Please behave. Potter is uncouth, yes, but you should not stoop to his level."

Draco saw Samael nod an almost imperceptible nod, and squeeze his knee shortly. "Of course, Samael. I am sorry," he replied, and from the sly grin on Samael's face he supposed that he must have said something Samael wanted him to say.

Draco wondered when he stopped caring for the fact that Samael could manipulate him so easily.

"I am not uncouth!" Robert declared, whilst glaring hatefully at Draco, who could only raise both eyebrows in surprise.

"Is that so?" Samael asked, leaning forward to rest both his head upon his hands. "Then please explain why you are raising your voice to an unbearable level. Or perhaps could you explain what Draco did that warrants your anger? Because, and please forgive my lack of understanding, I find myself unable to comprehend your actions."

And Samael's eyes were wide, and his mouth twisted into a confused smile to form an expression of innocent confusion. And Draco could almost believe it, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew Samael, and he recognised the gleam in his emerald eyes to be one of a predator stalking its prey.

Robert spluttered, and stared incredulously at Samael. "Are you being serious?" he asked, "Malfoys and Potters hate each other."

Samael sent a confused look to Draco. "I was unaware of any active blood feud," he stated questioningly, and Draco tried hard not to smile as Robert fell for Samael's act.

"There is no blood feud," Draco answered honestly, "In fact, Grandfather used to have regular meets with Charlus Potter."

Samael's eyebrows scrunched together, and a moue of confusion formed on those pink, cupid-bow lips. _'Wait! I'm still describing his lips as cupid-bow? Seriously?'_ "I do not understand. Is there a personal reason why you dislike Draco? Because I cannot recall anything Draco may have done to insult you."

"Of course!" Robert sneered, "His father's a Death Eater! The whole family is rotten!"

"Really?" Samael enquired, but his tone was frigid enough to freeze Robert's wild gesticulations. "I believe that you will find those allegations to be disgusting and untrue. Lucius Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than my own mother, and let me assure you that my mother would never partake in such cruel and mindless violence."

Draco tried extremely hard not to choke on his laughter at the statement, whilst the not-so-asleep-Remus snorted in his sleep, and Andras' eyes watered from a coughing fit.

"I find your mindless accusations to be abhorrent, and I would dearly wish for them to cease to continue. And as for you saying the entire family is rotten?" Samael inclined an eyebrow at the Gryffindor. "That is just preposterous. Draco is the second cousin to your guardian, Sirius Black, and he is third cousins with yourself. Therefore, if you wish to insult Draco's family, you are only insulting yourself." Robert opened his mouth to protest, and Samael scoffed at the boy. "Honestly, please think before you open your mouth, you may be surprised at what you achieve."

Robert looked dumbfounded at the information, and Hermione sneered at him. "Oh well done, Robert, you've managed to upset Lestrange and I'm pretty sure that he is the nicest person you will ever meet."

Samael's eyes widened in surprise, and Granger winked at him when Potter moodily turned to stare at the wall. Draco was somewhat unsurprised to discover that Granger had figured out Samael's spontaneous plan to mess with Robert's head. After all, the girl was the smartest witch of the generation.

Remus released a soft snore, and Draco wondered whether the man was actually asleep. He was almost completely certain Remus wasn't, but if Remus wished to maintain anonymity in regards to Andras, Draco supposed it would be easier to avoid social interactions with the boy.

A gentle rap on the door drew all the students' attention, and before anyone could answer the door swung open to reveal the irate face of Ginevra Weasley. "Oi, Robert! Ron's down there somewhere," she waved a limp hand to her left, "So bugger off, I want to sit with my friends."

"Friends?" the boy sneered, "What with Malfoy and Snivilus?" Remus' form definitely jerked at the word, but before Draco could react, Robert faced the tip of a glowing wand from Ginny and Samael.

"I suggest that you leave immediately, Potter," Samael hissed quietly, as he pressed his wand into the jugular of the red-head's neck. "You are most decidedly unwelcome. Additionally, Ginevra may befriend anyone she so wishes, you are in no position to dictate her actions. Furthermore, please desist in your derogatory remarks to my friends or I shall be required to take unpleasant action." Robert's eyes widened in shock and something Draco could not name. "Am I understood?"

Robert nodded quickly, and Samael slowly released his hold on the boy, all without breaking contact. Silence reigned within the compartment, creating a heavy atmosphere, and it did not break even when Robert fled the compartment with a darted look towards Samael.

Hermione was regarding Samael solemnly, whilst Ginny was watching him with shrewd eyes. Draco supposed that since they were situated in Gryffindor, where most engaged their fists before their mouth, they were unused to such eloquent threats.

Andras coughed lightly, and the female occupants realised they were staring blatantly at the Lestrange who merely raised an eyebrow at their flushed faces.

"So, Samael," Andras began, letting the words drag out, "Did you do anything nice over the holidays?"

Samael's emerald eyes glanced at the Ravenclaw, and gave a small smile. "I did indeed have an enjoyable holiday, thank you for asking, Andras. My brother taught me a few spells. I hope that you had an equally enjoyable time with your parents."

Andras nodded with a bright smile. "It's good to hear that you liked- wait, what?" Andras' amber eyes were round with shock. "Did you say your brother has been teaching you?"

Samael smile morphed into a satisfied smirk, "Yes. Are you hard of hearing today, Andras? My brother and his familiar, Selina," Draco bit his tongue harshly at the mention of the basilisk, "Have been teaching me spells in addition to feet and wand-work."

"Merlin," Andras breathed, in a mixture of awe, fear and jealousy. "Blimey, just, I can't believe…how are you still alive? How good _are _you?"

Samael inclined his head to the side and smiled.

Draco silently wondered why Samael was acting so playful, but refused to draw attention to it by mentioning it to the Lestrange.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Lestrange," Ginny stated with a confused moue.

Samael nodded. "Few know of my brother's existence."

"Is your brother really good with magic then? Because you've shocked Andras and Malfoy." Andras snorted, and Draco withheld the urge to do the same. Ginny glared at them. "Well?" she asked, arching her eyebrows at the sniggering Snape.

Andras only chuckled more at Ginny's irritation, and told her: "You have no idea, Ginny," before breaking out into another set of giggles.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hi guys. I'm sorry for the late chapter and the spelling & grammar mistakes.

My best-friend died of cancer last month. He was only 17 and he was the kindest soul you could have ever met. He was always smiling, and always there to give you a hug. And gods, he was such a big flirt, but he was sweet on me and I brushed him off because I was scared. Scared because I didn't know what to do, and what would people think, and of the teasing I'd get. Then we drifted apart. He went to college, I went to sixth-form, and we just didn't talk as often as we did. And he didn't tell me he had cancer until a month before he died because he didn't want me to be sad, and Gods, I just wish he had told me sooner. I wish that I could have been there for him and that I was a better friend.

I'm not telling you all this for pity. I'm telling you for catharsis because I need to get this all out.

And I want to tell you all, don't let chances slip you by. And if you love someone don't let them drift away. Bundle them close to your heart and keep them there. And don't lose yourself so much in life that you forget about the people in it.


	26. Can You Just Be With Yourself?

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

**Warnings:** More spoilers for Dance Inside (ignore the first bit directly underneath the song and go straight to Minerva if you don't want to read them)!

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><p><span>Can you just be with yourself?<span>

_Wir sind allein!_

_Allein allein, allein allein_

_Hvem der bare ku' klare sig med hj__ælp_ _fra sig selv._

_Allein allein, allein allein_

_Hvem der bare ku' klare sig med __hj__ælp__ fra sig selv_

_G__å__r ud alene går hjem for mig selv, jeg kan klare mig med __hj__ælp__ fra mig selv_

_Allein allein, allein allein (alene)_

_Jeg kan klare mig med __hj__ælp__ fra mig selv_

_Allein alene – Polarkreis 18 (Nephew remix)_

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><p>Severus regarded his Snakes in a strange mixture of shrewd assessment and pride. He noted that the Porter twins were in need of pain-relievers, and quite possibly a skele-grow for Abigail, and reminded himself to put more pressure on child services for the two children. He was quite relieved to see that none of the first-years displayed any obvious signs of pain or abuse, however he would need to investigate further to fully assure himself.<p>

The seventh-years were much calmer than any he had previously seen. They were all meeting his gaze without fear and none were showing the arrogance they had been exhibiting when they were younger. Severus supposed he had Samael to thank for that.

Samael was perhaps the child Severus was most proud of, the one he had helped the most, the one he had bonded with over their similar lives, and the one closest to his heart. A surge of pride swelled in his chest at the man he was growing into. Cool, calm, and assured; he was a natural-born leader. And he had led the besmirched House of Slytherin back into the forefront of Hogwarts.

Whilst Slytherins were still regarded with suspicion and hostility, the general consensus amongst the other houses had improved significantly. This was mostly due to Samael's manipulation of his fellow students, both Slytherin and non-Slytherin alike, into believing that Slytherins were not the epitome of evil. That, yes, they were cunning and may have a certain aptitude towards 'darker' aspects of magic, but they still feared, laughed and loved the same as any other child.

The numbers of inter-house friendships were rising gradually, and inter-house fighting was decreasing in the same progression. It was slow work, but Samael had somehow changed nearly sixty years of anti-Slytherin prejudice. However, Severus was not naïve enough to believe that this would miraculously solve all the discrimination facing his Snakes, and refused to withdraw his guard on his charges.

"Despite the improved reputation of Slytherin House," Severus' voice silenced the already quiet room. "We are still very much persecuted from both professors and students alike. I have already informed you of the behaviour I expect from each and every one of you, and if you are caught disregarding any one of these rules then you will be punished most severely."

Several of the first-years quivered behind the intensity of Severus' glare, whilst a few older students squirmed uncomfortably with guilt when Severus' piercing gaze fell on them. "If you are caught misbehaving from a professor other than I, then I will be unable to aid you as proficiently as I could. If you believe you have been wronged, then I am sure that any of your fellow housemates would gladly assist you. However, do take note that their assistance will come at a price."

Predictably, rather sinister smirks appeared on the older Slytherins' faces at this remark, and Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you have been hexed go straight to the infirmary. Most of you are aware that the previous Mediwitch, Poppy Pomfrey, was dismissed from her position last year due to negligence. The current Mediwitch, Victoria Effing, is an excellent healer and an ex-Snake, so she will understand your situation more than most other professors."

Severus paused, and forced down the lump forming in his throat at the words he was about to speak. "On the subject of professors, there is only a small list of those you can rely upon to trust. There is, as I have already stated, Madam Effing and I, and lastly Professor Lupin, the current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

Several students who were familiar with the name began to state their outrage, the loudest of them being Tracey Davis.

"Lupin?" she asked, voice dripping with scorn and incredulity. "As in, Remus Lupin? Isn't he best friend with James Potter?"

Immediately, those who were unaware of the connection began to either stare aghast at Severus or join the cacophony of angry students.

Severus felt his left eyes twitch in annoyance, and definitely felt a tick in his jaw from how tightly he was clenching it.

"Pray tell," Vitriol layered Severus' silky drawl, and it caused all the unruly students to stare at the man with fear. "Why it is that you feel the need to question my judgement? Have I not proven my determination in keeping you all safe from harm?" Severus' calm words effectively expressed his anger and disapproval more effectively than shouting could have ever done.

Shamed faces stared at the ground, except from Samael and Draco who were meeting Severus' stare with neutrality. Severus supposed he should be grateful his snakes trusted him enough to show their emotions to him.

Withholding the urge to sigh, Severus swept his gaze across the room. "I will impart two facts upon you that are relevant to my explanation. These are very personal facts about Professor Lupin's private life that he has given me express permission to reveal, because he will be informing you of them in your first lesson with him."

Severus felt their curious stares and resisted the need to smirk. Slytherins were too curious for their own good sometimes. "Firstly, Professor Lupin is homosexual. This information may seem irrelevant, but I assure you that it played an important role fourteen years ago. My second fact is that Remus Lupin is a werewolf."

Severus raised a hand to prevent the flurry of activity from becoming uncontrollable. "You are perfectly safe from Professor Lupin. His status as a werewolf is known by the Board of Governors, and he has been approved to teach on the grounds that he takes the revised wolfsbane potion every month."

These words effectively prevented the oncoming hysteria. "Fourteen years ago, James Potter and Sirius Black discovered Professor Lupin was homosexual, and in an effort of _curing_," Severus sneered the word with venom, "him of his homosexuality, they involved him in a ritual designed to return the body to its normal state."

"However, Black and Potter did not research this ritual before they used it on the stupefied Lupin, and it had disastrous effects. The ritual was formulated to heal certain injuries, such as stab wounds; it was not intended to cure someone of homosexuality. So, the ritual attempted to heal Lupin by pulling the werewolf from him. However, the werewolf had been part of Professor Lupin since he was five years old, and its magic and Lupin's magic were very much the same thing," Severus paused to let the students take in the information. "The ritual effectively attempted to strip Lupin's magic from him."

A sharp intake of breath was heard from every single student, as shock, anger and horror spread from the room. Severus nodded grimly at their grimaces. "The ritual was unsuccessful, because it was not equipped to perform such a strenuous task, and instead, Lupin's magic reconnected with his core and he fell into a coma for seven months."

"Therefore, to answer your question, Miss Davies. No, Professor Lupin is no longer _best friends _with Potter," the third-year girl blushed with embarrassment, and Severus frowned at her.

"I have never endangered your privacy or safety, and I trust you to trust my judgement," Severus closed his eyes briefly, "Remus Lupin will be a trusted confidant to you all, just as he is a trusted confidant of mine." Gasps spread throughout the room, and Severus smirked sardonically at them. "Yes, I have a friend, and yes, he is a Gryffindor. Please do not harm yourselves in your surprise."

The students were staring at him as if he had just told them the sky was green. Severus' smirk grew larger, and he chanced a glance at his third-year Snakes. Samael's eyes were glinting with mirth and Draco choked on a laugh. The other Slytherins, however, were still somewhat in shock.

"Now, do hurry along to bed. Curfew outside the Pit is nine o'clock. Curfew inside the Pit is nine o'clock for first through fourth-years, ten o'clock for fifth and sixth-years, and eleven o'clock for seventh-years. The password will change each week, and shall be posted on the notice-board each Friday. If you fail to learn the new password, you shall not be allowed inside the Pit." Severus cast one lasting smirk around the Pit. "Pleasant dreams," he drawled, before striding from the room with his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

* * *

><p>Minerva raised the goblet to her lips, and gazed over the rim at her colleagues in barely concealed surprise. Remus Lupin was chatting <em>amicably <em>to Severus Snape. Minerva couldn't process the information, and just continued to stare in disbelief.

Understandably, Severus noticed, nay on anticipated Minerva's actions and merely raised an eyebrow at her. "Is there something that you would like, Minerva?" he drawled silkily, and, to Minerva's further shock, Remus turned to glance at her in amusement.

"I…" the witch frowned, and lowered her goblet. "I am merely surprised at how friendly you are being to one another."

Remus and Severus shared a look Minerva was unable to understand. "Minerva, Remus and I have been _friendly_ with one another since seventh-year."

"Really?" both her eyebrows rose into her hairline. "I never saw this friendship."

"We kept it secret," Remus answered with a fond smile, "We began to meet up in the library and we realised that we had quite a few things in common."

"What Remus means to say," Severus interjected with a smirk, "is that he realised that I wasn't an evil Snake hell-bent on destroying muggles, and I realised that he was actually good company."

"I never thought you wanted to destroy muggles," Remus retorted in an affronted tone.

"Then why, pray tell, did you ask me my thoughts on muggles?"

"I just wanted to know your opinion on them."

"Oh?" Severus questioned with a small smile, "So you weren't trying to stealthily investigate?" Remus shook his head, and Severus snorted.

"Okay, so maybe I was. But I never thought you were evil!"

"So you thought I wanted to commit genocide, but didn't think me evil," Severus deadpanned.

Remus rolled his eyes with a grin. "Okay, so I had some misconceptions about you." Severus raised an eyebrow. "_Huge_ misconceptions about you."

"Well it is understandable; those insipid House rivalries rose exponentially whilst we were at school. Plus no-one really took the time to actually look passed the preconceived notions that were assigned to Slytherin House." Minerva looked shamefacedly at her former students.

"I know, Sev," Remus murmured, "But at least it's better now for your Snakes, right? Now, that Samael, Draco, and Andras are at school, they're turning heads aren't they?"

Severus smirked at Remus' innocent tone. "You know full well that those three are a terrible combination."

Minerva frowned at said students. "And why would that be? Messrs Lestrange and Malfoy, and your son seem like perfectly pleasant students."

Remus smiled mischievously at the witch. "What Severus means, Minerva, is that when all three of them are together, strange, improbable and unexpected things occur. They are a group of geniuses. Draco has many family-connections, Samael is a very smooth talker and Andras is creative. And, of course, they are all extremely capable with a wand and understand the political arena."

Minerva frowned at her plate. "Creative?"

"Andras is working on a spell," Severus stated proudly, whilst glancing over towards his son. "He has studied the arithmetic to it, and is now focusing on the magical levels involved in channelling the spell."

"Really?" Minerva's eyes widened in surprise. "Spellcraft? No-one has practised it in nearly a hundred years."

"Well, Severus has created spells, haven't you, Sev?"

"Remus, do not overstate my actions," Severus drawled silkily, "I merely dabbled on occasion."

"I wouldn't call _muffliato_ dabbling, Severus!"

"Well really!" the witch exclaimed, eyebrows nearly in her hairline. "You two are acting like a married couple. What with your bickering and constant smiles!" she released a soft chuckle, "Why, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you two were…" the witch trailed off, and stared aghast at Severus' face.

"You would say that we were what, Minerva?" he whispered quietly, onyx eyes burning with danger.

Remus sighed, and gently placed his hand on Severus' knee. "Sev, please," he murmured softly, "You do not need to be so angry."

Severus' nostrils flared, as his jaws tightened in anger. "I will not have you or Andras harmed, Remus."

"Severus Snape!" Minerva cried with outrage, her lips pursed in disapproval. "I will not see you nor your family harmed."

Severus merely raised an eyebrow, his sneer fixed firmly on his face. "So you will not regale Albus of what you have learned today?"

Hesitation crossed the witch's face, and Remus released a soft growl. "You do not trust Albus," she stated matter-of-factly. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Minerva interrupted him. "I understand. He has done nothing to warrant either your or Remus' trust, and I shall not tell him."

Severus fixed an intense stare on the witch, sneering as she rubbed painfully at her head. Remus glanced over at Severus who, after a short moment, nodded at the sandy-haired wizard.

Remus smiled warmly, and squeezed Severus' arm tightly so that the he would turn his frown into a less hostile expression. Minerva smiled at the action. "I can see that you two are in love," the witch said with a small smile. "I take it that you are young Andras' father, Remus?" Remus nodded with a fond smile. "So the male fertility potion was made for you and Remus then, Severus?"

"Indeed," the dry reply came, with a distrustful glance.

"Well," the witch huffed, with an exasperated shake of the head. "I'm glad that you've found happiness, Severus" said man scoffed and Remus surreptitiously squeezed his arm tighter. Minerva's lips twitched. "Or should I call Remus your handler?"

Severus sneered at the witch, and steadfastly looked away from the grinning Gryffindors. Remus nudged Severus gently. "Do cheer up, Sev. You know that Minerva didn't mean it seriously." Remus glanced over to see Minerva wasn't looking before pressing his lips close to Severus' ear. "Besides, you know what your brooding does to me, and I highly doubt you wish to perform in front of your students.

Severus did not shiver. He absolutely, positively did not shiver. At all. He refused to be reduced to such an undignified response.

"I was not brooding," he bit out, "I was merely contemplating the horror of the upcoming year now that you two have collaborated against me."

Remus was definitely mocking Severus with his smile. "Of course you were, dear."

"Please do stop mocking me Remus," Severus commanded before a sly grin appeared across his face. He dropped his head, letting his hair hide his face from his students before whispering silkily. "Otherwise I may have to resort to," pale fingers stroked Remus' thigh lazily. "_stricter _measures."

Minerva stared aghast at the display, "Well I never!" she declared, mouth agape as Remus leaned closer towards Severus. She stood sharply, drawing the attentions of all the professors, moved to stand behind the two canoodling professors. "Not in front of the students, boys!" she hissed sharply into their ears. "I won't have to tell Albus anything at the rate you two are going. You're practically copulating on the table!"

Remus released a loud guffaw, and glanced sideways at Severus' smirking face before falling into soft snickers. A moment of silence passed before Severus too, to the shock of most, began laughing at the outraged witch.

Fury shadowed her face. "Both of you leave!" she boomed, silencing the already shocked hall. "Don't you dare return until you behave yourselves! Why, if you were my students still I would dock you a hundred points _each_ for that display!"

Severus slowly stood, wiped a stray tear from his eyes, and placed a hand upon Minerva's shoulder. "I apologise for upsetting your delicate sensibilities," he murmured. "Remus let me escort you to your classroom," Severus offered with a heated look only the wolf and witch saw. "Your first class is not for another fifteen minutes, and I am sure you have things to do."

Remus took a long glance over the dark-haired man's body, before smiling brightly. "Thank you, Severus. Your _help_ is greatly appreciated."

Minerva grunted in disgust, and roughly pointed towards to the doors. "Leave right now, boys!"

"_Come _along, Professor Snape," Remus commanded, walking towards the doors. "I have something _exciting _to tell you."

"Will it be a blow-by blow account?" Severus enquired, smiling predatorily at Remus, causing a nearby Hufflepuff to squeak in terror.

Remus grinned wolfishly. "I promise you, Professor. You'll be seeing stars."

Severus' smile grew large. "Excellent."

* * *

><p>"Mr Lupin!" a high-pitched voice declared happily, and the sandy-haired man glanced up from his desk to see the grinning face of Filius Flitwick.<p>

"Professor," Remus greeted warmly, placing his quill into a nearby inkpot. "What can I do for you?"

Filius smile grew larger. "The question should rather be what can _I _do for _you_?" A confused frown crossed Remus' face. "What is the one thing we have in common?" Filius asked.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," Remus stated, before Filius eagerly forced a bundle of parchment into his hands. Remus' frown only grew larger. "What is this?"

Filius released a huff of pride. "Our freedom, Mr Lupin! Our freedom from this oppressive government! Take a look!" Remus complied and gingerly turned the first parchment over to read the contents.

A long moment passed, and the only sound that could be heard came from Filius' pacing steps and the soft whisper of a page turning. Eventually wide green eyes met excited blue. "This is…" Remus whispered hoarsely, "This is, no…This would be revolutionary if it succeeds."

"I know," Filius agreed sagely, "Just think about it. A world where magical beings will no longer be restricted by archaic laws. Where magical beings have the same rights as wizards for jobs, houses and food."

Remus tapped the parchment, and glanced at the half-goblin. "But you have a problem?" he guessed, and the excited wizard slumped slightly in defeat.

"I have no-one to support it. Every person I have spoken with has refused."

Remus frowned, "Even Dumbledore?" he enquired. After all, whilst the wizard was a heartless, cruel man from his treatment of Samael, he had always seemed interested in magical being.

"Pah!" Filius cried with a furious glare. "That man does not care for magical beings! He fired me for being half-goblin! He is the reason I had to return to my old trade!"

"Duelling?" Remus questioned with a slight shake of his head, "Duelling is nothing to be ashamed of."

Filius threw his hands in the air. "I know _that_!" he declared, "I was not referring to duelling, I was referring to the black market."

Remus spluttered incredulously. "You're a smuggler?!" he hissed, with a furtive glance around the room.

"Was. I _was _a smuggler," Filius stressed with a sigh, "It is not exactly a time I am proud of. The only reason I got this job back is because the parents demanded it. Apparently Lucius Malfoy, of all people argued for my return."

Remus nodded as Severus had told him that fact last year. "Does anyone know of your previous employment?"

Filius nodded and sat himself at one of the students' desks and began to lazily swing his legs. "Well, my contacts knew of course, and my parents, oh and Severus of course!" Remus' eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "You honestly do not believe that his potion ingredients are legal?" Filius questioned with incredulity, "Demiguise fur is not exactly easy to get hold of, and from what I gather he needed it for his werewolf potion."

"That stupid fool," Remus grumbled fondly. "Illegally obtaining..." Remus rubbed his forehead idly. "He kept that secret for a long time."

Filius nodded, "Yes well, one does not exactly admit to buying illegal items. But we're getting off topic!" he declared, whilst wildly gesticulating. "No-one will read my idea, let alone propose it in Wizengamot!"

"I see," Remus tapped his fingers against the desk in a staccato rhythm. "Who have you asked?"

Filius frowned furiously at the desk, before stating: "Dodge, Dubmbledore and Longbottom."

Remus hummed softly to himself, "Have you tried Lucius Malfoy?" The half-goblin spluttered wildly at the suggestion. "Lucius has no problem with magical beings, I consider him a friend, and you said that it was him that got you your job back."

"But that doesn't mean he is willing to fight for our cause!"

"No," Remus agreed, "but you won't know until you ask. And what about Rodolphus or Bellatrix Lestrange? Or what about Lord Slytherin? Have you asked any of them?"

"Slytherin?" Filius gasped, "Are you crazy? I can't just start talking to him! He doesn't know me and it would be presumptuous to assume he would willing to listen to me."

Remus shook his head in exasperation, "You're not going to get anywhere if you're not ready to go out and fight for it, Filius. And Lord Slytherin _will_ listen to you; he's trying to ensure the equality of all magic."

Filius opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with a frown. Remus released a sigh of mild irritation. "Look, Filius. I could always ask Lord Slytherin if you wish, but he would just want to speak to you anyway. So if you want his respect I suggest you speak to him first."

"How can you speak so easily with him?" Filius murmured softly, "Do you know him?"

"I…" Remus faltered, "Lord Slytherin and I have a somewhat strange familial connection. His brother is friends with my son, and my partner is a very close friend of his, so…" Remus nervously rubbed at his neck. "I do know him, yes. But please keep that information secret. Lord Slytherin does not want Dumbledore to gain any information about him."

"So Albus has gained more enemies?" Filius snorted amusedly, "Serves the old codger right. I won't tell anyone, Remus, rest assure." Filius huffed quietly. "And I will speak to Lord Slytherin. But I'll write him a letter first, so that I don't bother him if he's busy."

Remus smiled, "That's a good idea. And thank you."

The half-goblin waved Remus' words away, and jumped down from the desk he was sitting on. "You've been a great help, but I really must be going now. I've got a letter to write after all, and I'll probably need several hours just to pen the first sentence!"

"Good luck with that." Remus chuckled softly, and stood to walk his older friend to the door.

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><p>Albus idly moved gnarled fingers through his magnificent white beard. The school-year had gone off to a decent start, considering the backlash Hogwarts had suffered following that blasted Ministry inspection. Only one student declined their Hogwarts invitation, instead enrolling themselves at Durmstrang of all places! As if that was safer than Hogwarts, with their Dark Arts lessons and Blood Magic studies.<p>

Albus shook his head in disgust, and reached for a sherbet lemon. Why would anyone want to subject their child to such horrific displays of magic? That child would be a rotten egg if left too long under Karakov's influence, Albus would bet any money on it.

Fawkes trilled happily from his perch, and Albus vaguely wondered whether Fawkes was able to read his mind. Albus rather hoped the bird couldn't, because he very much doubted Fawkes would approve of half the things he thought about. Take Harry Potter for example. Fawkes certainly would not approve of his thoughts towards the child. Albus wistfully hoped the child was dead.. But no, the child survived and had been adopted by someone and was Merlin knows where. He was well and truly out of his grasp.

And that angered Albus. More than anyone could know.

A shrill, almost inaudible beep shattered Albus' thoughts, causing the wizard to raise his head from where it lay in his hands. "_Revelare nomen,_" he murmured quietly, and the name 'Samael Lestrange' formed above his head in wispy letters.

Albus wondered what the boy could want, before declaring genially. "Enter, Mr Lestrange!"

Sure enough the door to his office opened, and the striking form of the youngest Lestrange glided towards him. Albus didn't know why, but he could swear the boy had changed slightly. Maybe he just had a growth spurt?

"Good morning, Heamaster," Samael greeted with a soft smile, "I apologise for interrupting, but is it possible for me to have a word with your phoenix?"

Albus' brows drew together in confusion. "Fawkes?"

Samael nodded, "Yes, Professor Lupin has asked us to research a magical being, and I have always been fascinated by phoenixes."

Albus smiled widely at the boy. Who knew a student could be so eager in fulfilling their professor's task? "I am glad that you are so diligent in your work, but I am afraid that Fawkes is unable to speak any human language."

Samael nodded again and his smile grew larger on his face. "Yes, I know. However, they do understand human languages do they not?"

Albus inclined his head at the boy. "That is correct."

"Well then, would it be possible for me to ask him questions and Fawkes communicating through movements or sounds?"

"I don't see that being a problem, Mr Lestrange," Albus stated, and the child instantly brightened. "However, Fawkes must agree." Albus turned towards the phoenix's perch, "What about it Fawkes? Would you like to help Mr Lestrange?"

Immediately the phoenix released a delighted trill, and swept from his perch to land upon Samael's shoulder. Albus chuckled at the awed look on the child's face, and watched contentedly as the child tentatively stroked the phoenix's beak.

"I believe that Fawkes has agreed to you offer, Mr Lestrange," Albus stated. Glittering dark emerald eyes met his, and it felt as if something had walked over his grave. The elder wizard warily glanced at the child, he knew there was something strange about him.

It would probably be best to keep an eye on him.

"You can use that corner over there for your questions, Mr Lestrange," Albus stated kindly, directing the child towards an alcove at the far end of his office. "The view from that window there is quite delightful."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Samael murmured. And the child was still stroking the preening phoenix as he made his way over towards the alcove.

He watched as the child settled himself on the window-seat, and pulled something from his robes. Straining in his seat, Albus attempted to see what it was but a pillar was in his line of vision. _'It was most likely a quill and parchment,'_ he reasoned, and forced himself to relax.

Albus couldn't catch what the boy was saying since the blasted child had opened the window, and the wind was howling.

"…healing powers?" he heard the Lestrange question, and a soft trill came as an answer.

"Would it be possible to heal…" Again the wind carried the rest of the boy's question away, and he couldn't hear Fawkes response.

"Could you please…"

'_Circe! Close that blasted window!' _Albus screamed to himself, as he failed again to hear the child's question.

Fawkes emitted a loud and happy song, and the child laughed. "Thank you, Fawkes. You could not comprehend how grateful I am for this… should be extremely happy… greatest Yule…"

The wind carried Samael's words away once more, and Albus refrained from slamming his fists against the desk. A soft cooing became louder, and Albus glanced up to see Fawkes nuzzling the child's cheek as Samael walked towards Albus' desk.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Samael stated quietly, and the child was definitely cheerier after his chat with Fawkes.

It set Albus' hair on edge.

"Oh, you've finished so soon? Did you get all the information you needed?" Albus asked with a benign smile. Watching as the child smiled happily, and his dark emerald eyes lightened to an innocent shade of achievement.

"Oh yes, Fawkes was ever so helpful, were you not?" he directed this at the phoenix who was preening at the attention he was getting from the Lestrange. The firebird only playfully nipped at Samael's wagging finger as he stroked the bird's beak once more.

Albus released a relieved breath. The child was just a child, there was no reason to suspect him of anything untoward. "Well, I'm glad that I was able to help. I hope you get a good score on your essay, Mr Lestrange."

"I hope so too!" Samael enthused, smiling sadly as Fawkes flew towards his perch. Albus vaguely wondered whether the child was lonely, he certainly didn't act like the typical Slytherin. Perhaps the Snakes were isolating him? Albus highly doubted that Draco Malfoy was suitable company for the child. Maybe Robert could befriend him?

"I must be going, Headmaster. Thank you for this," the child smiled once more, and was Albus imagining it or was the child smirking? Sunlight glinted off his mirror. No, he must have imagined it.

"You're most welcome, Mr Lestrange. Please do ask if you're having any problems with anything," he stated with his grandfatherly smile, and the child only nodded bashfully. "Oh! One more thing, Mr Lestrange," Albus called when a thought suddenly struck him. "You're friends with the younger Mr Snape, aren't you?"

Samael nodded once more but the action was much more wary, and those eerie emerald eyes met his with (is that?) danger. "That is correct."

"Hmmm…" Albus began playing with his beard again, "Do you happen to know who his other father is? I would like to invite them both to a gathering, but alas! I do not have Severus' partner's name! And it's a surprise you see, so I don't want to ask Severus or he'll catch on!" Albus smiled his winning smile.

Samael blinked slowly. "I am terribly sorry, sir, but I do not know Andras' other father all that well. I have only met him once, and it was so long ago that I cannot recall his name." His tone was pleasant, and smile apologetic.

Albus let his face morph into one of sorrow. "Oh? Well thank you anyway, Mr Lestrange."

"Please, sir," Samael stated with a toothy smile, "The pleasure was all mine." And with those words, the child made his way towards the door. But Albus could have sworn he heard the child whisper smugly. "You will no longer be alone."

Albus couldn't supress his shudder at the child's chilling words. No, there was something definitely strange about Samael Lestrange. Something strange and something unnatural.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hey guys! Thank you for all the lovely words you left me, they are really helping me come to terms with Danny's death. Sometimes I forget that he's not here anymore, and then it feels like a kick to the stomach when I remember. But your words, virtual cookies/hugs/hot-chocolate and experiences have really helped. So thank you so much! You are all awesome! :)

Oh! And please forgive all spelling and grammar mistakes!


	27. You No Longer Have to Live Half-Alive

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>You No Longer Have to Live Half-Alive.<span>

_And you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life;_

_And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size._

_Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?_

_Where you gonna sleep tonight?_

_This is the Life – Amy MacDonald_

* * *

><p>The glittering stars littered the atramental sky, and Samael could vaguely make out the shape of the phoenix constellation. <em>'Rather fitting considering the circumstances,<em>' he mused to himself, whilst reaching for the boiled potatoes. _'I wonder whether Fawkes and I could converse again?' _The firebird was quite observant, and had many humorous and, potentially, career-ending stories about the beloved Headmaster.

Smirking wryly, Samael felt Draco's questioning eyes on him. _'Poor Dragon. He has been wondering my actions for the past month.' _His smirk grew wider at the thought, but then he felt something foreign strike his inside. A feeling he had not encountered before. _'Should I tell him? I _do _trust him; he is one of the only people I _can _trust. He is my friend; my closest friend.'_

Resolved, Samael nudged Draco's arms gently. "I am planning my brother's Yule gift," he stated, watching as realisation dawned on the blonde's face. Satisfied, Samael turned back to his plate and picked up his fork.

Draco's brows furrowed into confusion. "That is why you have been distant for the last couple of weeks?" Draco's tone was definitely hurt, and Samael could not bring himself to mock the pout on the blonde's face.

And that foreign feeling returned again. A tightness in his chest, as if some being had wrapped its clawed hands around his heart and began squeezing. Was this guilt? Was _he _feeling remorse? Silence reigned. Draco's face fell into a neutral mask and that grip on his heart began constricting his every breath.

He had seen Draco worried before, he had seen Draco self-doubting before, he had even seen Draco furious. But never had he seen Draco upset. And knowing that Draco's hurt was due to him made his heart clench further.m Should it fact anger him? The fact that Draco was making him _feel _more.

His younger self would despise Draco for distracting him.

Two years ago he was willing to sacrifice his friendship with Draco if it meant he could gain further influence with other people. Now, the thought of life without the blonde caused something terrifying to settle inside him because life without Draco would be empty. Merely a dreary existence that was monotonous and apathetic.

It would be half a life.

And if he was to be honest to himself. Didn't Draco _deserve _something more? More gratitude, respect and warmth? Hadn't Draco always been an emotional crutch? After all, one of the first things the blonde said to him was that he would protect him. And Draco had seem him at his worst when he was being healed and when he _cried _after the Potters' hearing. Draco was his closest and truest friend and Samael should treat him like that.

Hufflepuff was a united house because of their loyalty. Samael had never underestimated the strength of a badger and he knew that the phrase 'one good deed deserves another' was the strategy he practised every day when maintaining his façade. So despite knowing that, why had it taken him two years to realise Draco needed loyalty too? The blonde had shown such dedication, kindness and loyalty; how could Samael not have repaid him in kind?

"I am sorry," Samael's words were hoarse, and almost too quiet to hear. But the blonde heard them, and his silver eyes widened in surprise. This was only the second time Samael had sincerely apologised. "I did not intend to upset you by isolating you. I merely got carried away with my plans. I…" Samael glanced down at his hands, before meeting Draco's eyes once more. "I will try my best not to let it happen again."

"I…" Draco faltered for words. This was something new. Another step forward in their relationship and another example of how much Samael _cared _for him. "Thank you." Draco smiled a small smile whilst placing a light hand on Samael's arm. "That means a lot to me."

Dark emerald bore into bright silver. Samael returned the smile tentatively, and made no move to remove Draco's hand from its position on his arm. Samael refused to think about how delightful it felt to be held by the blonde because, frankly, he had had quite enough emotional revelations for one day, thank you.

Screeching roused Samael from his thoughts, and a familiar white blur streaked passed his vision. Unbidden, Samael's lips twitched in amusement at the sight of the proud snowy owl, who stood impatiently before him. Gently stroking her beak with one hand, Samael removed the letter from her leg with the other.

"Thank you, girl," he whispered, and smiled as she nuzzled his hand affectionately before taking flight. Draco's silver eyes were no longer on him, instead they were watching the bird depart with narrowed eyes. _'Is he honestly still jealous of Hedwig?' _he stifled the urged to snort, _'Perhaps I should feed him owl treats so he does not feel unnoticed.' _ Samael had to bite his lip to restrain from laughing hysterically at the thought of the imperious blonde with his head tilted to the side begging for a titbit. After all, random, spontaneous laughter was not associated with sanity and Samael did not wish to harm his public reputation with it.

'_Perhaps I should ask Uncle Rabastan whether he is in possession of any human-to-owl transfiguration spells?' _Samael wondered, _'Of course,_' he thought with a rather steely edge, _'Uncle Rabastan should refrain from pranking my Dragon. The only person to do such a thing would be me.'_

"-mael! Samael!" Draco hissed quietly, and the Malfoy surreptitiously gave Samael's arm a shake. Said boy glanced at his friend and saw concern shining in his silver orbs. _'Idiotic! How could I lose contact with my surroundings! Focus!' _

Samael rose an eyebrow at Draco. "Is there a problem, Dragon?" he questioned lightly, but his eyes betrayed his irritation. Draco's eyes narrowed, and Samael gave a minute shake of his head to answer the blonde's silent question. _'No, Dragon. I am not angered with you.'_

Draco frowned at the response, and Samael knew that the blonde would be attempting to covertly keep an eye on him for the next hour or so to ensure that he was no longer angry. Samael refused to acknowledge the stirrings of warmth within his stomach at the action, because he knew that it would be a slippery slope. Because if he were to assess the reasons behind this response, it would definitely lead to the evaluation of all responses he had towards Draco.

And Samael did not want to do that to himself, for he was already aware of the answer. Samael knew why Draco made him feel the way he did, but he dared believe it. Instead, he supressed the answer at the back of his mind where it went relatively ignored until occasions like this occurred. Occasions that made it all too apparent whyDraco was the first person Samael wanted to talk to, and _why _Samael wanted to caress Draco's cheek when he was pouting. It was occasions like this that reminded Samael that he couldn't cope with this answer.

But it was becoming obvious that he would have to learn to cope with the answer soon, or lose himself in the stress of it. People _knew. _Aunt Narcissa and, therefore, his mother knew the answer. His brother knew the answer. Andras knew the answer. These people knew the answer and one day Samael would have to face up to it.

But that day was not today.

So instead, Samael gave Draco a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and tapped the parchment lightly. "This is the final piece of my brother's Yule gift. I am planning a little _surprise_ for my dearest brother, which required the assistance of one of his elves." A rather disconcerting grin stretched Samael's features. _'Oh, you will not know what to do with yourself, brother.'_

Draco's expression was one caught between horror and mischief. "I don't think I want to hear about this," he declared with a wry twist of the lips. "That way I can deny all knowledge and ergo all involvement."

Samael lifted a finger in his direction. "You surely do not believe that would keep you from my dear brother's wrath?" Samael paused with a predatory smile. "Do not fear, Dragon. My brother shall be delighted with his gift."

Draco's doubtful expression informed Samael that he didn't sound very convincing.

"Truly, Dragon," Samael implored silkily, "My brother shall be delighted once he overcomes his rather negative tendency to commit homicide on unsuspecting muggles."

Samael swore Draco flinched ever so slightly at his words. "Please, I beg of you Samael, can I not be anywhere within your brother's vicinity when you surprise him?"

Samael's grin was wicked. "I will try my best. However, do remember that my brother is hosting Yule." Samael shivered remembering Marvolo's magic during the Yule celebration the previous year. "It would be terribly difficult to hide from your host in his own manor," Samael playfully nudged the blonde's shoulder. "But do not worry, I will protect you from the big, scary wizard."

Draco smiled affectionately at Samael, his silver eyes sparkling with laughter. "Such sacrifice, Mr Lestrange!" Draco declared with a faux gasp. "My hero!"

"Why thank you, Dragon," Samael stated with an upturned nose, "I always knew I was extraordinary but I do believe I am rather lacking a hero's morals."

"Pedantic sod," Draco stated with a grin, whilst filching a fig that had been abandoned on Samael's plate.

"Supercilious thief." Came the easy reply, and Samael felt contented with their usual camaraderie. However, the thought of Draco ever discovering the answer caused trepidation to crawl up his spine, because these treasured moments with Draco would surely not remain.

* * *

><p>"Stop it!" Remus protested with a laugh, whilst pawing at Severus' arms. The only response was a velvet chuckle, and an eager tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "Stop-oh, <em>oh<em>…." Green eyes rolled in pleasure, before Remus regained focused. "Stop, Sev! Class starts in a couple of minutes!"

Heavy-lidded onyx eyes regarded Remus, "I am aware, Remus," he drawled lazily, whilst his roaming hands played with the button fastenings of the other wizard's shirt.

"Stop that!" Remus commanded; sighing in relief (or was that disappointment) when Severus complied. "I'm confused," he stated with a moue. He straightened his rumpled shirt, ensuring that he looked somewhat presentable for his students. "_You _were the one who hated the idea of me taking this job because _you _did not want Dumbledore to discover _our _relationship."

Severus stared blandly at Remus, and slowly licked his lips in appreciation as Remus' linen trousers left little to the imagination. Remus caught the look, and smacked the Potions Master lightly on the arm. "So why, if you were so worried about Dumbledore, have you practically harassed me for sex every other day."

Severus immediately adopted an affronted look. "I have not _harassed _you!" he declared hotly, "I think you will find that you were perfectly susceptible to my actions. In fact," Severus cast a meaningful glance towards Remus' crotch. "On most occasions, _you _were the one instigating."

Remus had the good sense to appear sheepish…and flushed. "Yes well…" he anxiously rubbed the nape of his neck, "That still does not explain your sudden change of heart. You should be brooding and glaring about me being here, not horny and irresistible!"

Severus couldn't help it. Honestly he couldn't. The look of sheer indignation on Remus' face had him chuckling for all his worth. Smirking devilishly, he took a step closer to the lightly panting man. "Whilst I am pleased to note your approval of my aesthetics, dear," Severus drawled silkily, "It has been four months since you initially informed me of your plans and I have ensured that neither your nor Andras are endangered."

Remus opened his mouth as if to argue, and Severus quickly intervened. "Honestly," Severus sent a chiding glance towards his partner, "Samael cast that parseltongue memory spell on Dumbledore, so that he believes he knows Andras' father but just cannot remember his name. Furthermore, there is a proximity ward on the door alerting me that your nearest student is 700 feet away, _and_ I have _silencioed _the room and warded the door against unwanted entry should we be, ah, a little _indisposed_." The shiver that racked Remus' frame delighted Severus to no end.

"I see…" Remus trailed off, as sinful lips once again attached themselves to his throat. "Sev…gods yes…." The wizard moaned deeply as Severus' large hand palmed Remus' bulge through his trousers.

"Hmph. Always so receptive…" Severus murmured with a satisfied smirk as Remus released another groan of pleasure. "However," Severus' voice was cruel in its brightness. "Your first student is outside your door, and I would hate to keep them waiting."

Remus stared at his lover with incredulity. "You're not…?" he questioned, watching as Severus ran long fingers through his hair to order it somewhat, and dusted invisible lint from his robes. "You bastard!" he exclaimed, "Leaving me in this state…" Severus merely smirked wider. Remus shook an angry finger at the other man. "You'll never see me naked for at least a week…"

A velvet chuckle met this, and Severus smirked sinfully. "Oh, I am perfectly content to last a week, Remus, but do recall the it is the full moon on Wednesday and we both know how… _needy _you become during that week. I am positive you shall be able to resist the need for me to bury myself in the tight cavern of your delicious arse," he all but purred the words into the smaller man's ear. "Because I can wait, Remus, I am very patient."

"You…" Green rolled in anticipation, before focusing angrily back on the Potions Master. "You…you…Just get out!" he declared with a wild gesticulation. "Go on go! I'm sure you have a class to teach somewhere."

"Seventh-year Ravenclaws," Severus affirmed, "They would not dare enter that classroom before I arrive."

"Get out, Severus!" Remus demanded and yanked open the door to see the curious faces of Samael, Draco, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. Remus froze, anger swiftly morphing into embarrassment. "Good morning, children," he greeted politely, before glaring into Severus' amused eyes. "Professor Snape was just leaving, weren't you?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the wizard, and shifted ever so slightly so the other man could feel his straining erection. Remus closed his eyes momentarily. "Indeed I was, Professor Lupin. Do have an _enjoyable_ day."

Samael and Draco smirked widely at the Potions Master. "Samael, Draco, Parkinson, Zabini" he acknowledged with an inclination of his head, before sweeping from the room; robes billowing dramatically behind him.

The students watched him depart with varying emotions. For Draco and Samael it was knowing amusement, and for Parkinson and Zabini it was confused curiosity. Remus gestured for them to enter the room, and the four Slytherins complied but Samael moved to stand beside Remus whilst the other three took their seats.

"Yes, Samael?" Remus enquired quietly.

"I just wished to inform you that your shirt needs to be tucked in, Professor," Samael stated with a predatory smile, "Oh, and perhaps you should button the collar. It looks like Severus has left quite a bruise."

A mortified flush immediately took over the man's face, and he inconspicuously attempted to follow Samael's advice. All whilst internally cursing Severus to hell and back. However, the arrival of the remainder of the class forced him to pull his mind from the depths of plotting.

He gestured for the children to sit, and called for silence. "Today, we shall be learning about a particularly resourceful species called boggarts," several unsettled faces appeared, obviously from children who had heard of the beings. "A boggart is a being who will assume the form of your worst fear, which normally results in your incapacitation."

Remus moved towards the centre of the room, and waved his wand in a complicated pattern; revealing an intricately carved wardrobe. Gasps of surprise echoed throughout the room, and Remus smiled thinly at their reaction. "This here," Remus paused whilst placing a hand on the shaking wardrobe, "Contains a boggart. No-one knows a boggart's true form because the moment you see one, it will transform into your worst fear. Now, wands out!" he instructed to the excited students. "The spell to prevent the effects of a boggart is _ridikulous. _Say it after me, ridikulous."

"Ridikulous," the class chorused, and Remus smiled slightly at their enthusiasm.

"Those who wish to face the boggart are free to do so, please form a line here," Remus indicated a line of chalk which had been drawn onto the ground.

Immediately, Potter, Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas raced to the front whilst the Gryffindor girls, Longbottom and the Slytherins were more reserved. Neville seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle, before he nodded decisively and strode to join the other male Lions. Hermione spared the boy a thoughtful glance, and followed him.

"Do you not want to face the boggart?" Parkinson asked Samael, who had made no move to leave his seat, unlike the others who were standing.

Samael rose an eyebrow; incredulity and scorn written clearly across his face. Parkinson shifted uncomfortably on her feet as his response. "I have no desire to inform others of my greatest fear," he stated slowly and clearly, "As that would allow them an advantage over me, and I am not fond of that situation."

"I see," the girl murmured quietly, before sitting down herself. "In that case, I do not wish for _you _to know _my _greatest fear," she stated sweetly, "I am at a disadvantage against you most days, I don't see the point of losing any advantage I have."

A light chuckle escaped Samael's lips, and he smiled approvingly at the shocked girl. "That is most wise, Parkinson."

"But don't you want to know what your greatest fear is?" Zabini asked. "If you know what it is, then you can protect yourself against it." Parkinson and Draco nodded with agreement in the background.

Samael gave Draco a strange look, which the other snakes, noticed curiously, before shaking his head gently. "I am pretty certain what my greatest fear is, and I have no urge to reveal it," Samael stated blandly, though silver eyes noticed the flicker of uncertainty on Samael's face.

Draco moved closer to Samael so that the other snakes could not overhear. Samael stiffened upon Draco's actions, and turned his face half way to avoid looking the boy in the eyes. "Is that…?" Samael trailed off, as an imperceptible shiver shook his frame. "Is that cologne, Dragon?" he questioned quietly.

Draco frowned. "Yes. Father gave it as my birthday present; I decided to wear it today. Why? Does it smell horrendous? I thought it was quite pleasant…" At this, Draco gave a dainty sniff and furrowed his brows.

"No, no. It smells…" Samael paused for breath, "It smells delightful, Dragon. I believe you should wear it more often.

The words caused Draco's face to brighten considerably, and he smiled a charming smile at the Lestrange. "Thank you, Samael. I think I will." His face morphed into one of seriousness then. "You know you can talk to me about whatever your fear is, Samael. I meant what I said last year, Samael, I believe one of the reasons I am alive is to be here for you."

Samael cleared his throat; avoiding eye contact with the blonde. "I am sure there are more important reasons for you existence, Dragon. However, I appreciate your sentiment, and you should know that it is entirely mutual."

"Really?" Draco's reply was breathless, hope and happiness evident in his bright silver eyes.

Samael nodded his head; unable to vocalise the words. However, that seemed to be enough for the blonde whose smile was beaming.

"Your fear though, it's not _them_, is it?" Draco questioned, venom dripping from his tongue when he remembered the despicable actions of the Potter and Dursley families.

Samael released a sigh, and shook his head. "No, Dragon. I do not fear them, not since I was a child anyway. My fear," Samael glanced upwards at the stone ceiling. "My fear is someone much more important." Emerald eyes met their silver counterparts.

"Your brother?" Draco guessed.

"I would rather not discuss this, Dragon," Samael whispered quietly, "No-one can know it. Not yet."

Draco's brows furrowed further in confusion, his moue deepening into a frown. "Not yet? So, you will tell someone someday?"

Samael's mouth opened but no words came out, he just sat there, struggling for an answer. In plain view of the entire class, noT they were watching of course, they were too fixated with Padma Patil's fear of snakes.

"One day my fear will come true. On that day _you_ will know it," Samael informed the blonde, before adding too quietly for the blonde to hear. "It will be you who either defeats or prolongs the fear."

"Oh," the blonde still looked confused, but settled himself into resignation. "I will be there when you face your fear, Samael. I'll always be there for you."

"Of course you will, Dragon," Samael stated confidently, yet if Draco could see Samael's face he would see the sadness and doubt that was plain for all to see.

* * *

><p>"Professor?" a voice startled the elderly wizard; and he remembered that he had asked Robert Potter to his office for a discussion. "You wished to see me."<p>

Albus smiled widely at the boy, and winked at him. "Sorry about that, Robert. I do grow forgetful sometimes. Yes, I wanted to talk to you about Mr Lestrange."

Surprise was evident on the Potter's face but, strangely enough, so was eagerness. "Yes, Professor? What about him?"

Albus absently stroked his beard, perhaps this plan could work after all? He had resigned himself to convincing the Gryffindor to do this task, but if he was so excited… "Yes, he was in my office last month and he seemed rather strange to me."

"Oh?" Robert sounded; shifting forward in his seat.

"Yes, he seemed was rather foreboding. I thought maybe he had been planning a prank of some such, but nothing has evolved, and then it struck me! I don't know much about Mr Lestrange. Perhaps he is lonely. That would explain his aloofness and strange behaviour."

Robert nodded enthusiastically at Albus' words. "Yes! I said the same thing to Ron ages ago! Samael is always helping people with their work, and he even defended Malfoy of all people on the train! Maybe the Slytherins don't like that he's so nice! It makes sense after all, 'cause they're all mean and evil, but Samael's really kind!"

Bushy eyebrows rose into Albus' hairline. Robert truly _was_ excited about the possibility of Mr Lestrange being a victim. "Well in that case, Robert," Albus began, "I was thinking that perhaps you could befriend Mr Lestrange. That way he could have someone to protect-"

Albus was unable to complete his sentence, as the young Gryffindor had leapt from his seat with a hearty "Yes! I'll do it, sir!"

Albus smiled a genuine smile at the boy. "Thank you, Robert. It makes me happy to know that you will look after someone who is not of your house." Robert merely nodded rapidly at the Headmaster, and Albus withheld the need to sigh at the boy's exuberance. "You have the holidays to think over what to do, Robert. Have a nice Christmas!"

"You too, sir!" Robert called as he raced from the Headmaster's office, various plans and ideas running through his head on how to get the Lestrange to notice him.

* * *

><p>"Mother?" Samael called into the library, hoping that the witch wasn't so deep into the room that his voice couldn't be heard.<p>

"Yes, Samael?" Bella's voice was sweet and quite near, and it wasn't long before the witch appeared from the row of bookcases a few feet ahead of him.

Samael smiled at the sight of her happy face, and limped towards her quickly. "I was wondering whether you could take me to Slytherin Manor?" he enquired.

A confused moue stretched the witch's face, as she absently trailed her fingers through his hair. "Whatever for, darling? Can it not wait for tonight?" For today was Yule, and it was Marvolo who was holding the gathering.

Samael shook his head. "No. I must prepare Marvolo's Yule gift at his Manor. It is a rather revealing shape, and he will guess what it is before I wish him a happy Yule." Samael supposed the look of innocence he plastered on his face was an effective motivator, as Bellatrix's face visibly softened despite the pout she was wearing.

"Very well, darling. Shall we leave now?" Samael nodded, and the witch grasped his free hand and walked him towards the apparition point. Pulling him close to her chest, she quickly disapparated into the familiar greeting room, where the marble pillars and grand staircase were the main focal points of the room. "Don't cause any trouble for your brother, darling," Bellatrix instructed, "Your father and I shall be arriving here for seven, so do not cause any mischief!"

Samael's angelic expression did not waver in the slightest, and Bellatrix's delighted face told him that the witch believed his façade. As soon as the woman had left however, his face morphed into a predatory smile.

"Whimsy!" Samael called loudly for the house-elf he had been conversing with for the past couple of months. Instantly, the aged creature appeared and beamed at the boy stood in the centre of the room.

"Young Master Slytherin, sir!" she cried happily, "Oh! It's so nice to see youse for the first times! Master Slytherin has said how handsome youse are, but youse really are a fine boy!" Samael smiled bashfully (not that he would admit it to anyone) at the house-elf and thanked her politely for her comment. "Master has gone out to see Master Starlight-hair."

Samael bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing at the creature's description of Lucius, and maintained his genteel smile. "Do you happen to know when Marvolo will return?"

Whimsy's face crumpled in on itself and her large green eyes watered slightly. "No! I'm sorry Young Master! Whimsy's shoulds know. Bad Whimsy!" Samael swiftly seized the elf's arm to prevent her from punishing herself. "Young Master?" she questioned confusedly.

Samael's face was stern. "You are not to hurt yourself, Whimsy!" he called harshly. "You are not at fault. Do you understand?" the aged elf whimpered slightly, but quickly nodded.

"Master always goes to _that _room when he returns," she stated quietly, and sharp emeralds narrowed in thought.

"When Marvolo returns," Samael instructed clearly, "I want you to inform me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Young Masters. Whimsys does not want to ruin Young Master's surprise!"

Samael smiled kindly at her, and gently patted her on the head. She returned his smile with a larger one, and leant her head into the caress. "Does youse want me to take youse to _that _room?" she asked after a short while.

Samael's hand stilled, and he inclined his head towards the elf. "Yes please, Whimsy." The elf nodded, grabbed Samael's hand and apparated them to a dark, dimly-lit corridor.

"Thatta be the room," she stated; pointing a gnarled finger at the door in front of them. "Whimsy can't open the door though. Master's magic is toos strong." The elf glanced fretfully about, and furiously tugged at her ear.

"It is quite alright, Whimsy. Do not worry. Now continue whatever task you were doing before I summoned you."

"Yes, Young Master!" the elf cried exuberantly and disappeared with a soft 'pop'. Samael shook his head at the elf's antics, he still wasn't quite accustomed to the fact the elves _liked_ to work and belittle themselves so. Though he supposed centuries of indoctrination would do that to a species.

Sighing, Samael turned to inspect the wards Marvolo had placed on the door. A sculpted eyebrow rose in surprise and appreciation. This was some fine spellcasting. The basic wards were in place, but interwoven within these wards were other wards designed for detecting intruders. There were fake wards in there also; so intricately woven that Samael needed to use the magnification spell just to see the damned things.

Yes, this was going to be a hellish task to overcome. He couldn't just rip the wards down because that would surely announce his presence to Marvolo as if he had shouted it from the rafters. No, Samael had to carefully slip passed the wards Marvolo had cast and trick them into thinking he was their spellcaster.

Their magics were similar after all,_ and_ they shared the same blood so it would certainly be simpler to do. Samael considered the wards from several angles, before he felt confident enough to attempt to breach Marvolo's security. Minutes passed as his magic surreptitiously mingled with Marvolo's, and further time was taken attempting to manipulate the wards. It was a lengthy task, and Samael was sure it had taken at least an hour or two to complete. But alas! Samael managed to manoeuvre his magic around the final strand, and the gentle 'click' of the door told him that he had successfully opened to door.

A wide smirk stretched his face as he twisted the handle and swung the door open. The room that greeted him was light and airy. Two arched windows were directly in front of him; streaming the afternoon sunlight onto the canopied bed which held a still figure.

Moving closer, Samael was able to detect the noticeable traits of the Black lineage, the familiar dark hair, strong cheekbones, and a noble nose. The man atop the sheets was in his early thirties, with a clean-shaven face and shoulder length wavy hair. Very handsome.

Samael's smirk grew even wider, and he traced the length of the man's jaw with his finger. Oh yes, this was a fine companion for his brother. And there tucked into the man's purple shirt was the Slytherin family's locket, now completely devoid of Marvolo's soul.

Draco said that he had been cursed into unconsciousness to live his nightmares, yet the man looked as if he was in a peaceful sleep. Perhaps Marvolo had managed to remove the torture aspect of the curse? It wouldn't surprise Samael.

Reaching into his robes he withdrew the gift that Fawkes had granted him all those months ago. A small phial with nary three phoenix tears. The bird was rather conservative with its tears, but even so few in number, the tears would prove effective. Phoenixes possessed the uncanny ability to see and assess a person's motivations. Therefore, phoenixes only ever shed tears based upon and individual's plight, which is why phoenix tears were almost never found on the Black Market. After all, if they were, Marvolo would have cured his lover as soon as he had been cursed.

Carefully unstopping the phial, Samael poured the contents onto the man's forehead. The change was subtle. Gradually the man's breathing become lighter, his fingers began to twitch before eventually his limbs stretched themselves. And then his eyes opened, and bleary grey orbs stared into sharp emerald.

The man jerked forward into a sitting position. Samael noted that he must have been exercised regularly for his muscles to be this effective. "What…?" the throaty voice attempted to say.

"Whimsy!" Samael called for the excitable elf, who swiftly answered the summons. "Could you bring our guest some water please?" Whimsy released a joyous squeak at the sight of the awake man, and quickly complied. "Thank you, Whimsy. You may leave."

"Yes, Young Master!"

Samael sat in the seat beside the bed, and lifted the cup gently to the man's face. "Drink this slowly," he commanded sharply. Water dribbled down the man's chin in his effort to take in as much water as he could under Samael's strict supervision.

Regulus' grey eyes were much more alert as they gazed shrewdly at Samael. "Who are you?" he questioned roughly, "I have never seen you before. Where is Marvolo?"

Samael smiled a menacing grin. "You need not worry about Marvolo; he is conducting business with Lucius at the present. My name is Samael Lestrange; heir to the most noble and ancient house of Lestrange, and heir to the most noble and ancient house of Black. My parents are Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange."

The man stared incredulously at the child. "Impossible! Bella is only twenty-nine, she is not nearly old enough to have you as a son."

Samael turned his head to the side to admire the man from a different angle. "Ah, you see my dear Regulus, you have been unconscious for the past fourteen years. As such, you have missed quite a few important events."

"Fourteen years?" he questioned hoarsely, "But that cannot be. I remember not only yesterday I was in the sitting room and Marvolo gave me this locket, and he asked me to…" the man trailed off, his grey eyes wide with panic as they blindly grabbed the locket. "Marvolo? Marvolo! What's happened to Marvolo?" he questioned loudly.

Samael watched Regulus' actions with a dispassionate gaze.

"You." The tone was venomous, and Samael glance up to see Regulus glaring daggers at him. "You shall tell me what has happened to Marvolo or I will eviscerate you faster than you can blink."

Samael couldn't help himself. He snorted in amusement at the man's words, and idly waved the man's protestations away. "Oh do calm yourself, Regulus," he instructed lazily. "I do believe that I could most likely have you bound and gagged much sooner than you could even think of hurting me. But please," Samael threw his arms wide, "Do try, because I just so _love _a man begging prettily at my feet."

Regulus' face betrayed his disconcertion and growing irritation, and Samael found that this reaction only increased his amusement tenfold. "However, I shall inform you about Marvolo if that is your desire," he stated calmly, "Are you aware of what a horcrux is?" he enquired softly.

Regulus answered that indeed he did.

Samael waved a limp hand towards Regulus neck. "That locket there was Marvolo's horcrux."

Wide grey eyes stared disbelievingly at Samael before falling awestruck at the locket. "Marvolo gave me part of his soul?" he murmured softly, and Samael withheld the urge to roll his eyes. "Wait. You said this _was _his horcrux. What happened?"

Samael supposed he should give the man some leeway on his cognitive abilities. He had after all just emerged from a fourteen yearlong coma.

"Thirteen years ago, Marvolo was hit with a cutting curse to the back whilst attempting to protect me. He died, but his spirit remained in this plane because part of it was anchored to your locket. Last year, I used a ritual to return Marvolo to his body and he is now right-as-rain.

"You." Once more that single word was filled with vitriol. "Why would Marvolo risk so much for you! You're merely Bella and Rodolphus' son. Why would he care so much?"

"I am not just the son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange," Samael explained in a bright tone. "Marvolo blood adopted me when I was a child. I am the heir to the House of Slytherin, and Marvolo's brother."

"Brother?" Regulus questioned, confusion swimming in his grey eyes.

"Yes, I am his brother," Samael answered slowly if not slightly patronisingly. "Which makes you, my dear Regulus, my brother-in-law. Well you will be once Marvolo bonds with you of course."

"Bonds with me?" Regulus echoed slowly. And this time Samael did have to roll his eyes.

"Merlin. Are you always this slow, or are you still suffering adverse effects from the curse?"

An annoyed glare was fixed upon Samael as a response, and he huffed a small laugh at the action. "I am sorry that I am finding it difficult to take in so much information, _brother_," Regulus scathingly retorted.

"You are correct," Samael announced, surprising even himself at the genuine contrition in his voice. "I apologise for my behaviour; I should not make fun of your situation."

Regulus looked rather startled by the apology, and Samael smiled a much gentler smile. "Marvolo will be able to explain everything in much greater detail than I," he stated helpfully, "He has been lonely without you." The non-sequitur caused Regulus to frown.

"He shouldn't have had to be lonely," Regulus whispered painfully, "He should have left me where I was. I never would have wanted him to wait for me."

Anger flooded Samael's system, and he harshly stamped his cane against the ground; startling the other wizard. It felt as if his magic had come alive, and was almost tangible from the sheer tension in the room. "How dare you!" he hissed his words so sibilant they could almost be mistaken for parseltongue. "My brother obviously loves you. He would not have given you the Slytherin locket if his feelings for you were anything less. Marvolo wished to complete the eternity bond with you, so clearly you are the focus of his entire being if he is willing to sacrifice his own life should you die. So how _dare_ you even suggest that he _move on_ and dismiss his feelings so frivolously!"

Mottled red covered Regulus' face in a mixture of shame and anger, but Samael hadn't finished quite yet. "What if your roles were reversed, and Marvolo was hit by this curse? Would _you _have _moved on_ and left him?"

"Of course not!" the pure indignation had the man rising from the bed. "I love Marvolo with all my heart!"

"Then why in Merlin's name are you even _thinking _that Marvolo should have done that?" Samael questioned tightly; disapproval and fury written clearly across his face.

"I…!" Regulus attempted to defend himself, but couldn't quite muster the strength. "I want Marvolo to be happy," he whispered morosely, "The thought of him all alone for fourteen years physically _hurts_ me," he implored the boy to understand, "He didn't deserve that."

"Whilst that is true," Samael agreed, and forced his anger gradually drain away. "Marvolo obviously feels as if you are the only thing to make him whole. He did not tell me those exact words, but the pain, longing, and tenderness in his voice spoke volumes. And _that _is why I devised a plan to awaken you, because I refused to allow Marvolo to live a half-life any longer."

Grey eyes were shining with unshed tears, as Regulus' trembling fingers fiddled with the locket around his neck. "Marvolo…" he whispered quietly; shame and sadness etched into his face. Strangely, Samael felt the urge to cheer the man up, so with a smirk he used his cane to tap the man gently on the knee.

"I expect that once Marvolo discovers that you have awoken, he will whisk you off to be bonded," Samael stated before a lecherous grin stretched his face. "And then he will have his wicked way with you."

Samael found the startled blush on Regulus' face exceedingly amusing. "Should a boy your age even _think _things like that?!" the Black demanded.

"Oh, do calm down," Samael voiced exasperatedly, "He has waited fourteen years to bed you, and I highly doubt you will not be unreceptive to his affections. Especially since he looks no older than thirty-seven, and _oh_," Samael's eyes were alight with mischief. "That bridges that age-gap quite nicely, does it not? There will only be a few years between you now."

Regulus was definitely affected by Samael's words if his heavy-lidded stare was anything to go by. However, he was not so lost in his fantasy that he did not find the situation mortifying. "Will you please cease this conversation?" he demanded, and Samael acquiesced.

"If that is your wish," Samael tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I imagine that I will have to soon abandon my claims to the House of Black and Slytherin."

"And why is that?" Regulus enquired curiously.

"Well for yours and Marvolo's children of course," he stated nonchalantly, which immediately caused Regulus to choke.

"Children?"

"Yes. Severus created a potion so that males could conceive and carry a child. I imagine Marvolo will be quite keen on the idea."

"As keen as mustard," Regulus replied distantly; his eyes wide with awe. "Children though," he breathed, "I never even contemplated such ideas." Almost instinctively, he moved his hands so that they rested upon his flat stomach. "Mine and Marvolo's child."

Samael smiled softly at the man. For reasons Samael did not know, his brother was devoted to Regulus Black. Meaning that Samael would have to accustom himself to this strange man otherwise he risked losing Marvolo. But if Regulus could speak of Marvolo with such wonder and love, Samael doubted he could ever dislike the man for long…Even if he did have the annoying habit of repeating things.

"Severus never would have created that potion out of the goodness of his heart," Regulus stated matter-of-factly, and his lips curved into a knowing grin. "So Sevvy has his own family then?"

The show of deduction surprised Samael somewhat. Samael forced himself to remember that the man in front of his was raised in a proud Pureblood family, and had caught Marvolo's attention so would therefore have some degree of intellect and wit. "Yes. He has a twelve year-old son named Andras. "

"Twelve," Regulus whispered; tightly gripping the sheets beneath him. "So old."

An unfamiliar twinge in his chest startled Samael, and unbidden he grasped Regulus' larger hand in his own. "I know that this transition must be difficult," he murmured softly; his frightening emeralds transfixing the grey orbs of his companion. "You have lost fourteen years of your life, when you last awoke you were nineteen and now your body is thirty-two years old. You should know, however, that Marvolo, Severus, Bellatrix and the others will help you adjust-"

Samael was interrupted by Regulus squeezing his hand. "Will you help me?" he questioned.

Samael faltered slightly, his confusion obvious on his face. "I profess that I will not be of much use. After all, I did not know you _before _the curse, so I am hardly in any position to aid you."

Regulus continued mulishly. "Whilst it's true that you do not know me. We will soon be family, and now is a good enough time to get to know each other." Samael stared at the man on the bed, reluctance swimming in his emerald eyes. Seeing this, Regulus tightened his grip on the boy's hand. "Please," he whispered desperately, "I'm sure that talking will help me."

Samael tugged at his hand that was trapped with futility. Fortunately for the Lestrange, Whimsy popped back into the room at that moment. The small elf seemed even more excited than usual, as she bounced lightly on her feet.

"Young Master Slytherin, sir!" she greeted joyously, "Master Slytherin has just been returning, he shall bees heres in a few moments!"

Samael cast a significant look at Regulus, and pulled roughly at his hand. Regulus let go; anticipation, longing and nervousness painted across his face. Samael turned to the house-elf, and thanked her for her notice, before facing Regulus. "Please do not utter a word," he requested ardently, "I wish for you to be a surprise."

Regulus nodded, and relaxed himself into the pillows behind him. Samael smiled gently at the man. "Do not fret; everything will be fine," he assured confidently, before striding from the room to wait on the outside.

Carefully, he placed his can in the doorway to prevent it from shutting completely, and patiently waited for his brother. Samael was sure Marvolo would adore his Yule present.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **My updates are really terrible for 2014, aren't they? Oh well, I hope you enjoy.

N'aww, I love writing Samael and Draco!

I CAN'T STOP WRITING SEVERUS/REMUS! ;;_;;

Please forgive all errors in grammar and spelling!


	28. Take Your Breath Away

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><em><span>Take Your Breath Away<span>_

_I'll be there when your heart stops beating;_

_I'll be there when your last breath's taken away;_

_In the dark when there's no-one listening;_

_In the times when we both get carried away._

_When Your Heart Stops Beating - +44_

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><p>Marvolo spared a glance at his blonde companion, as the regal man attempted to keep his polite façade at Arthur Weasley's comments. Marvolo and Lucius had just finished a Wizengamot session where the proposal Filius Flitwick created was being discussed. The progress was slow and quite tedious, yet the initial feedback seemed to be promising. Twenty-three lords (a significant number of whom were Death Eaters) supported the proposal, and the only opposition came from a group of fourteen lords. The remaining undecided eleven lords were currently being 'wooed' by himself and Lucius.<p>

Which was why the blonde man was so irritated when Arthur Weasley accosted him in the Ministry's atrium; demanding to know what had happened to his daughter. "You bastard! Tell me where my daughter is! My Ginny has turned strange ever since she fell in with your bastard son!" the red-head bellowed at the aloof Lord.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the shorter wizard and sneered. "Mr Weasley, I can assure you that I have no idea where your daughter may be. Perhaps she made other plans?" he suggested silkily; dangerously. "And I can also assure you that my son is not a bastard as you so eloquently phrased, as I believe you will find Narcissa and I were married years before Draco was conceived." A small ripple of laughter sounded from the watching by-standers, and Arthur flushed an even darker shade of red. "Now, I am kindly asking you to stop addressing my son by such a despicable name or I _will _seek appropriate action."

Lucius' blue eyes were frigid as they bore into Arthur's water blues. "You're lying," the red-head stated wildly. "You've hidden my daughter away somewhere in your Death Eater home!"

Marvolo supressed the swell of delight that bubbled inside him, as he watched his most political-savvy Death Eater take glare witheringly at the Weasley. "I am _not _lying, Mr Weasley," Lucius stated calmly, yet all present saw the seething anger bubbling underneath his exterior. All except Marvolo who saw the amusement shining in Lucius' eyes. "And as for me being a Death Eater," several breaths were drawn, as the crowd watched with baited breath. "Those are false and malicious rumours" And with these words, a slender hand swiftly removed the cufflinks on his left cuff and pulled his sleeve up to his elbow to reveal creamy pale unmarred skin.

"Finite Incantatem!" the Weasley cried loudly, whilst pointing his wand at Lucius. Yet again, the crowd waited in tense silence for the Dark Mark to miraculously appear on the man's skin.

Nothing happened, and Lucius' disdainful expression reached new heights. Marvolo chuckled darkly, as if his spell would be revealed with something as simple as _finite incantatem_.

"Well?" Lucius questioned testily, "Have I proved my innocence yet?" Mutters broke out amongst the crowd, whilst several glanced shamefully at the ground. Weasley said nothing; he merely stared in denial and gaped wide-mouthed at the man. Lucius cast him a disgusted glare. "Be warned, Mr Weasley. I _will _be pressing charges for the slander you have put against me today. Do have a pleasant afternoon." he smiled sweetly at stalked in the opposite direction.

Marvolo followed after him at a sedate pace, smirk playfully stretching his face. "Well done, Lucius," he praised quietly before whispering the muffliato spell. "You have quite effectively gained us more support for the bill by revealing that you are _innocent._" Lucius glanced at the older wizard in surprise and Marvolo chuckled softly. "Did you not see Fitzwilliam Edgecombe's or Edmund Gowshank's reaction to you revealing your arm? They looked exceedingly pleased."

A thoughtful expression crossed Lucius' face. "You were the one to present this bill," he stated; obviously thinking aloud. "Due to you being an unknown in regards to beliefs and ideology, they were basing your actions on your association with me."

"Very good," The Dark Lord commented, "The exact conclusion I drew also. They believe that you are not a Death Eater, and therefore _I _must not be one either."

Lucius' lips twitched in amusement, "Well they are correct. You are not a Death Eater."

Marvolo smiled menacingly, "No. I am merely the leader of them and one of the most feared wizards alive."

"Ah," Lucius stated in a knowing tone, "You see, my Lord, many believe you are dead. And as such do not fully appreciate the time they spend in your company."

"Lucius," Marvolo replied soberly, "None of them appreciate my patience. If this was a meeting, I would have crucioed one of them just to see if they could speak quicker."

A fond chuckle escaped Lucius' lips as he recalled some of the meetings the Dark Lord was referring to. "Many of your followers, Parkinson, Greengrass, Macnair and so on, have been enquiring into your whereabouts. They wish to know whether Marvolo Slytherin is the Dark Lord, and if so when will a meeting be called."

Marvolo's gaze was dark and voice deadly soft as he regarded his companion. "And what did you tell them?"

"That such information was unrequired for their position," the blonde answered swiftly, "And that they should find out in due course should they not fall into disfavour."

Marvolo's resultant smile was slow and predatory. "Very good, Lucius," he stated with satisfaction. "You have done me proud."

Lucius inclined his head graciously with his own smirk curling his lips. "Thank you, my Lord." They walked in silence through the atrium; smiling charmingly at those who glanced in their direction. "What time should we arrive at yours tonight, my Lord?" he questioned curiously, after all one did not wish to arrive too early or late at the Dark Lord's mansion.

"Seven o'clock should be an appropriate time, Lucius," Marvolo replied, holding the door open for his blonde companion. "And do give my regards to Draco," Marvolo's smile was slightly unnerving in its intensity, and Lucius sifted uncomfortably the sight of it. "He and Samael so share such _close _bond, and I do want him to feel comfortable in my presence."

"I will, my Lord," Lucius responded quickly, before sweeping his cane to the side. "We shall arrive for seven o'clock. Goodbye my Lord." He murmured softly before apparating away.

Marvolo watch with fond amusement as Lucius departed; he always did have a flair for the dramatics. Glancing at his wrist, Marvolo calculated that he had at least five hours before his guests would arrive; leaving him plenty of time to review the notes Rookwood had presented on the time-turners the Unspeakables were investigating.

Marvolo quickly returned home himself, and made the familiar walk towards Regulus' room. His young betrothed had inhabited those rooms ever since he was cursed twelve years ago, and Marvolo quickly ensured the curse would not have a detrimental impact on Regulus' mental health by isolating the strand that caused the nightmares.

A feeling of foreboding crawled down his spine as he neared the rooms. Something was not right about the magic on this wing of the manor. Narrowing his gaze, Marvolo lengthened his stride and came upon Samael, who was lounging against the doorframe whilst idly fingering the filigree on his cane.

Marvolo's foreboding feeling did not ease in the slightest. Samael was a disconcerting child who would grow into a formidable wizard. He was studious, shrewd and naturally adept with the wand. Despite his limp, his reflexes were quite adequate and the power behind his spells was impressive.

Marvolo was suddenly grateful that he had adopted this child as his brother, because he would have made a fearsome enemy.

"Samael," he called softly, and those striking eyes locked upon his; shining with anticipation. "Whatever are you doing in my home?"

Samael's smile was predatory as he mockingly placed a hand over his heart. "Why brother! I thought I was welcome in your home," Marvolo returned the predatory smile and stalked closer towards the younger wizard. Samael sighed when Marvolo raised an exasperated eyebrow. "I have come to deliver your Yule present."

"Could it not have waited until tonight?" Marvolo enquired and Samael merely smiled mysteriously.

"It is a rather _unconventional _gift and I was unaware of your reaction, so I thought it best to give it to you in private."

Curiosity fluttered within his gut, but he refused to let his brother see it so instead he raised his eyebrow once more. "Very well. Please wait in the sitting room, Samael, whilst I conduct some business." Marvolo made to move around Samael but the younger wizard blocked his path. "What are you doing, Samael?" he questioned as annoyance tinged his words.

Samael grinned even wider. "I am afraid, brother, that your gift is inside that room," Samael informed brightly, and Marvolo's earlier trepidation increased tenfold, however it was overshadowed by the feeling of anger and betrayal. How dare Samael invade his personal rooms?

Marvolo attempted to voice his anger however, with a shocking display of agility, Samael swiftly strode into Regulus' room. Marvolo stared aghast at the door. He had personally warded this room. No-one, not even Samael, should have been able to manipulate Marvolo's wards. Burning rage shook his frame and his magic rose to meet his anger, turning the air thick and heavy. "SAMAEL CYGNUS LESTRANGE!" he roared whilst pushing the door open with a bang. "HOW DARE YOU INVADE MY-" Marvolo paused his diatribe in shock at the sight before him.

Samael was perched daintily upon the edge of Regulus' bed. However, Regulus himself was propped on his elbows; staring straight at him with his grey eyes glazed with tears. A tugging in his chest had him gasping for breath, whilst a burning sensation developed in his throat. Shakily, he took a step forwards. "Regulus?" his voice was hoarse with disbelief, and the man on the bed nodded erratically; tears swimming in his eyes.

Marvolo stretched a hand out as if to touch the other wizard, but stopped himself and glared menacingly at his brother. "Explain yourself, Samael," he commanded roughly, maintaining the large distance between himself and the bed.

Samael tilted his head to the side, and smiled winningly at the wizard. "Regulus is your Yule gift, Marvolo. It was obvious that you missed him so I revived him for you," Samael explained simply, and Marvolo dared not grasp the hope swelling in his chest. For if this was not a trick and truly _was _Regulus then his dreams would have come true. Marvolo released a breath and narrowed sharp teal eyes upon his brother.

"How did you revive him?" Marvolo questioned. He had attempted most healing methods except the one that truly mattered.

Samael's reply was quick and easy. "Phoenix tears of course. I did worry that perhaps they would not heal mental afflictions, however it seems my fear were for nought."

Marvolo closed his eyes as relief coursed through his being. It was true. Regulus was well once again. Marvolo staggered towards the bed, and Samael, upon seeing this, quickly stood to clear the way for his brother. Marvolo replaced Samael's position on the mattress and quickly pulled Regulus into his arms and pressed his lips gently against Regulus' hair.

"Marvolo," Regulus gasped before shifting so he was fully ensconced within the larger wizard's arms. "You're safe," he stated; small huffs of laughter escaping his throat. "You're safe."

Marvolo tightened his grip on the man. "Of course _I _am safe, Regulus. It is _you _who has been incapacitated. Do not worry about me."

Regulus glanced over at Samael who had moved closer towards the door. "Samael informed me that you have been in spirit form for over a decade," he explained.

Marvolo inclined his head. "I was and I will explain everything to you in a moment. I am afraid it is a rather long tale that inevitably involves Samael for quite a large proportion of its duration." Marvolo raised his eyes questioningly at his brother, who shook his head in a negative.

"If you do not mind, brother. I would much rather not be present when you discuss the past." The Dark Lord regarded his brother with a look of understanding in his teal eyes. Samael nodded at the two wizards on the bed before swiftly turning on his heel. However, before he could exit Marvolo called him back.

Marvolo was staring at his brother with deadly intensity. "You've been near Dumbledore." He stated with angered disbelief.

"How else was I to attain phoenix tears?" he questioned nonchalantly, which only fuelled Marvolo's rage further as he took a threatening step towards Samael.

"Dumbledore could have harmed you!" he all but hissed at the child; eyes wild with their anger. Samael prickled at the statement, and matched Marvolo's glare with his own impressive one.

"Dumbledore does not suspect a thing. He believes the façade that I have created," the child sneered with contempt dripping from his tongue. Marvolo could only shake his head in disbelief.

"You are not safe near him, Samael. Even if your façade is as impenetrable as you believe," Marvolo waved a hand through the heavy air. "Your magic is all too revealing to those who recognise it. You have dark magic, Samael. No doubt, Dumbledore is aware that you are no ordinary student."

"Dumbledore does not suspect a thing, brother," Samael firmly stated, yet his stubbornness seemed to grate further on the Dark Lord's nerves.

"And how are you aware of that, Samael? He has most likely ordered a Gryffindor to follow you and report back to him." Samael scoffed in disbelief and Marvolo scowled further at the boy. "You are not nearly as infallible as you think you are, Samael."

Samael's stared dispassionately at the older wizard; his emerald eyes were dull and eerie as they regarded the Dark Lord. "Believe me when I say that I know I am not infallible, brother dearest. I know my weaknesses, I could list them all to you now if you would so desire. And whilst it is true, I may suffer from arrogance a tad where Dumbledore is concerned, at least I have the time to improve and perfect any flaws he suspects."

The child did not wait for a reply before stalking from the room, leaving an irate Dark Lord behind. Marvolo watched the departing figure with anger before swearing quietly under his breath before returning to where Regulus was laying on the bed. Grey eyes watched the Dark Lord with concern.

"You are worried for him," Regulus stated matter-of-factly, whilst gently tapping the Dark Lord's arm. Marvolo glanced down at his lover and smiled deprecatingly.

"You are correct," Marvolo sighed before pulling the other man into his arms again. "Samael does not see that though."

Regulus' lips twitched in amusement. "You are both very similar," he declared, and Marvolo started in surprise. "You are both hot-headed and stubborn, and let us not forget a level of confidence which others may consider arrogance."

Marvolo cast a droll glance at the other wizard. "Your sheer impudence is astounding," he commented offhandedly, "However, I concede your point." Marvolo glanced at his lover and rolled his eyes. "Oh do wipe that smug look off your face," he instructed exasperatingly.

"What?" Regulus questioned innocently, yet his grey eyes shone bright with humour. "It's not every day that the Great Lord Voldemort agrees with someone!"

Marvolo flicked Regulus lightly on the ear whilst smiling a predatory smile. "Do not become accustomed at swaying my judgement, Regulus," Marvolo taunted whilst idly carding his fingers through the man's hair. "You shall never be able to change my mind regarding certain situations."

Regulus sighed at Marvolo's touch and shifted closer to the man. "I know." His reply was soft, as he toyed with the stitching of his blanket. "Tell me what happened," he commanded quietly. Marvolo stiffened, and Regulus tightly gripped the blanket. "I need to know, Marvolo." His tone was gentle yet determined, "What happened after I was cursed?"

Marvolo glanced at Regulus with defeat, and settled himself more comfortably on the bed. For, if he had to relive those painful memories, he would rather do it in comfort.

* * *

><p>Sirius stared at the whorls in the dining room table, melancholy and anger settling deep inside his chest. How could he have let things get so bad? He betrayed Remus, Peter betrayed him, and James and Lily caused his whole world to turn on its head. How could he not have seen it sooner? Why could he not stop and fix his mistakes so that everything would be right again?<p>

"Sirius?" Robbert's voice roused Sirius from his musings, and he smiled tiredly at the child. "Would you hate me if I wanted to be friends with a Slytherin?" he asked quietly.

Sirius stared at Robbie in astonishment. His initial reaction was to warn his godson away from those evil snakes, but recent experiences taught him to ignore that reaction. "No," he answered quickly, "I wouldn't hate you, Robbie. I could never hate you. Who were you wanting to befriend?"

Robert smiled widely at his godfather and tapped his fingers erratically against the table. "Lestrange. I know what you're gonna say," he began when he saw Sirius' startled face. "But his family aren't really Death Eaters, they've proven that to the Ministry. And he's not like the other Snakes, he's nice and helpful to everyone!"

By the end of his speech, Robbie's breathing was heavy and hard and Sirius could only nod as Robbie's words went over his head.

"There's only one problem though," Robert said rather despondently, "I don't know how to get him to talk to me. He doesn't like me that much."

"I thought you said he was nice?" Sirius questioned confusedly.

"He is!" Robert declared defensively, "But I upset in first-year and he doesn't like me."

Sirius frowned in concentration. His gut was telling him not to trust Samael Lestrange, but how well did listening to his gut do him in the past? Therefore, Sirius ignored his misgivings and began formulating plans to help his godson.

After all, he had promised Remus not to turn Robert into James.

* * *

><p>Rodolphus glanced confusedly at the empty entrance hall. Rodolphus had some late business with Greengrass and, as such, Bellatrix and Rabastan had left the Manor forty minutes ago to prepare the Dark Lord's garden for the ritual. However, that did not explain why Samael was perched upon the bottom step of the grand staircase before him.<p>

Emerald eyes glanced upwards at his arrival, however Samael made no move to greet his father. Hazel eyes narrowed upon the obviously upset teen, and Rodolphus strode towards his son. "Samael? Is there something troubling you?" he questioned quietly.

Samael's eyes were sharp as they regarded the older wizard. "Marvolo does not trust my abilities," he declared grouchily and frowned at Rodolphus.

Rodolphus felt wariness seep into his bones at Samael's statement. It was considered unwise to complain about the Dark Lord, and despite the Dark Lord's fondness for his inner-circle, Rodolphus did not wish to insult the powerful wizard. "Is that what Marvolo stated?"

Samael's frown deepened. "No," he murmured, "He made it clear that I should not be alone with Dumbledore. As if I," Samael waved an arm down his body to indicate himself, "Would endanger our plans by being discovered."

Rodolphus' wariness increased tenfold. Whilst it is unwise to insult the Dark Lord, Rodolphus had similarly learned that it was unwise to insult Samael. He hesitated briefly. "Samael, please do remember Dumbledore's age. Whilst you are undoubtedly powerful, rivalling both Marvolo and Dumbledore, Dumbledore has much more experience than you."

Samael made to interrupt; an insulted expression upon his face and Rodolphus narrowed his eyes in irritation at the boy. "Do not interrupt me, Samael," he commanded sternly; reminding the boythat _he _was Samael's father. "Dumbledore has over eight decades of experience of spell-casting and political intrigue, and regardless of your aptitude of magic, you will be vulnerable and inexperienced in comparison to Dumbledore."

"I…" Samael attempted to find an appropriate response, but Rodolphus spoke once more.

"I am sure that Marvolo did not intend to insult you with his words, Samael. I believe he was merely trying to protect you."

"I do not require protection," Samael stated indignantly, and Rodolphus ignored the urge to sigh.

"Marvolo cares deeply for you, Samael," he stated gently," "You are his brother in blood and magic, and the closest thing he has to family. Just like your mother and I, Marvolo does not want you to be in Dumbledore's near vicinity before you have had at least seven years under Marvolo's guidance."

Samael's face scrunched up in confusion, and Rodolphus placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "Just think about it logically, Samael," Rodolphus instructed, and waited patiently as Samael complied.

Rodolphus knew his words were successful when Samael released a sigh of his own. Reluctantly, Samael glanced up to meet his father's eyes and Rodolphus rose an eyebrow at Samael's wryly expression.

"I understand your argument," Samael declared quietly, whilst staring intently at the floor. "However, it was not Marvolo's words that I found so insulting; it was his tone of voice. He was _condescending_. How could he talk to me like that?"

A small huff of laughter escaped Rodolphus, as he was reminded quite suddenly that Samael was still a thirteen year old child and was prone to the odd sulk every once and a while. Smiling softly, he patted him on the shoulder. "Be that as it may, I am sure Marvolo did not intend to insult you."

Samael slowly nodded, "I understand that ," he murmured, and leaned heavily on the bannister to stand to his feet. "I suppose I best apologise to him," Samael stated downheartedly, "And inform him of his guests."

A sudden though struck Rodolphus then, and he stared at his son in confusion. "How did you avoid your mother? She must have come looking for you when she arrived."

A small smirk graced Samae's face as he glanced at his father. "I merely informed the house-elves to tell her I was indisposed with Marvolo. Undoubtedly, mother had no wish of interrupting."

An approving grin formed upon Rodolphus' face, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I must remember that idea," he informed his son in a conspiratorial voice. Samael only shook his head in amusement. "I shall find your mother and uncle. Knowing those two, your mother will have murdered Rabastan and is in the process of hiding the body."

A wicked grin crossed Samael's face. "I must disagree. Mother would not be hiding the body. She would have trussed him up above the manor as a sacrifice for the ritual."

Rodolphus nodded his head solemnly, "Yes. That does sound more like her." Samael's lips twitched which only caused Rodolphus to chuckle lightly. "Now, go find Marvolo and I shall find your mother," he instructed, before walking towards the manor's doors.

Samael watched his father depart before calling Whimsy to his side once more. The exuberant house-elf seemed even more excited than she was before; her green eyes wide with happiness. "Master Slytherin has Master Slytherin's consort back!" she blurted out joyfully, "Thank youse, Young Master Slytherin! Master Slytherin be so happy!"

Samael settled his curious gaze upon the elf. "You can feel his emotions?" he questioned, and the elf nodded her head rapidly.

"Yes, Young Master Slytherin," she stated soberly, "Whens we elvies took our oath to Master Slytherin, we were connected. When he's bees happy, we alls be feeling it."

"Is that so?" Samael asked quietly, and he stored the information away for a later date. "And he is not angry?" Samael asked, somewhat cautiously. Samael was not afraid of Marvolo, however he had no desire to subject himself to an irate Dark Lord if he did not have to.

Sometimes, Marvolo was too irritable to hold a civil conversation with.

Whimsy shook her head, and stared confusedly at the child. "No. Master Slytherin be the happiest he has been in long time.

Samael nodded and smiled softly at the house elf. "Thank you, Whimsy. Now, could you please take me to the hallway outside their room please?"

The house-elf complied, and Samael rapped lightly upon the door, as he had no wish to see Marvolo semi-naked if those too were attempting to make up for lost time. "Enter!" Marvolo's voice echoed loudly, and Samael pushed the door open with his cane.

Instantly, Marvolo's hard gaze bored into Samael's own whilst Regulus watched quietly from the bed. "Samael," Marvolo greeted softly, "I did not expect to see you so soon." Marvolo's smile was mocking, but Samael refused to react to the snub.

Instead, Samael smiled sweetly in return and moved closer towards his brother. "Yes. I came to apologise for my earlier outburst," he declared lightly, and Marvolo stared intently at his younger brother.

Regulus nudged Marvolo's arm, and the Dark Lord glanced down at his lover with ill-concealed impatience. Regulus merely pointedly glanced at Samael with an expectant look. Marvolo sighed exasperatingly and nodded. "Thank you for your apology," Marvolo replied stiffly, "And I apologise for being so impatient with you. I should have explained magical auras to you quite a while ago. No matter how brilliant your façade is, you will not be able to hide your true inclinations from Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Samael stated quietly "And you are correct, I should not underestimate him." Marvolo cast an appraising look over his younger brother and nodded to himself.

Samael returned the glance, and within their brief eye contact, they mutually agreed never to mention this encounter ever again. And that one glance returned their relationship back to normal.

"Mother, father and Rabastan are in the gardens," Samael declared which immediately caught Marvolo's attention. "They are preparing the grounds for the ritual."

At Samael's words, Marvolo stood from the bed and strode quickly towards the window, where he stared intently down at the ground below. Regulus shifted on the bed and made to follow after his betrothed, however was unable to detangle his leg from the sheets. Samael watched Regulus' struggle for a moment, before swiftly moving to his side where he made quick work of the problem.

Surprised grey eyes stared up at the child, and Samael offered a raised eyebrow and soft smirk. Regulus rolled his eyes at the arrogance of the child before him; unsurprising considering whose brother Samael was.

A small, pale hand was thrust in Regulus' face, and the elder wizard took it gratefully and was levied to the edge of the bed. Wincing in pain, Regulus absently rubbed the underside of his knee. Samael scrunched his eyes at the action. "Does it pain you to move your legs?" he asked, which roused Marvolo from his musings.

"What are you doing?" Marvolo questioned his lover loudly, and joined Samael's side to stare worryingly at his betrothed.

Regulus sent Marvolo a droll look. "I am attempting to stand," he answered pointedly, and pulled once more on Samael's hand so that he was standing waveringly on his feet. Seeing this, Marvolo grasped Regulus' bicep tightly and placed a supporting hand on his waist.

"Your legs are most likely stiff," Samael directed towards Regulus, "You'll just need some practice. So there is no need to mither the man so much, brother," Samael chided with a mischievous grin fixed upon his face.

Regulus laughed softly, and slung an arm around Marvolo's neck so he could press a kiss to the older man's cheek. "See? I'm fine, Marvolo. Please do not worry so much," Regulus implored gently, and Marvolo only glared mildly at the other two wizards in the room.

Marvolo ignored his lover's words and turned to his brother instead. "The Snapes' and Malfoys' are in the garden with your parents, please inform them that I shall be with them shortly," Marvolo said in a tight voice. Samael nodded and turned to leave, however Regulus' voice stopped him.

"Samael?" Regulus caught both Marvolo and Samael's attention, and Regulus smiled at his lover. "Please also inform them that Marvolo's betrothed shall be arriving with him." A devious smirk stretched Regulus' face, and Samael returned it with vigour. "It's about time that people knew their Lord was taken."

"Taken?" Marvolo repeated incredulously, and nipped the smaller man on the ear. "I have not been _taken_, my sweet. I believe the word you are looking for is _enamoured_. No-one shall ever _take _me." The innuendo was obvious and Samael grimaced at the blushing Regulus.

"I shall repeat the first half of Regulus' message," Samael stated before sweeping from the room, and taking the long journey towards the doors to the manor.

Rabastan was the first person to see him, however that was unsurprising considering the man was hanging upside down in the entrance. "Hey, Samael!" the elder wizard enthused with a large grin, "Do you fancy releasing me from this spell?" he questioned lightly, but Samael could tell from the strained smile and red-face that Rabastan was becoming affected by the rush of blood to the head. "Your mother has stolen my wand."

"Your feud with mother is ridiculous," Samael murmured yet pulled his wand from his robes anyway. Rabastan's grin turned wider, and Samael's smile turned malicious as he cast the counter-spell, causing the wizard to collapse to the ground with a loud groan of pain.

Samael chuckled softly at the man's grunts of pain, and Rabastan glared at the child. "You're evil!" he hissed, and Samael only chuckled louder. "Definitely your mother's son," he grumbled and stuck a hand in the air. Samael glanced at the appendage and raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Samael! Help me up."

"I do so love a man who begs prettily at my feet," Samael purred his answer and helped the man to his feet. "Oh, do not sulk, Rabastan," he admonished whilst walking out into the gardens. "It is terribly unbecoming of a man of your age."

"Evil incarnate," Rabastan loudly grumbled, however his complaint was lost over Bellatrix's voice.

"Samael!" she shouted and rushed towards her smirking son. "Where have you been?" she questioned whilst embracing him began to card fingers through his hair, before she became distracted and pointed her finger at the people in front of them. "Look, there's Draco!" and sure enough, the unmistakable silver-haired boy was in Samael's field of vision.

Draco caught Samael's and waved and the smile on his face was purely beatifying. All thoughts escaped Samael when his breath was taken away from the sight before him. "Why don't you go play with him?" Bellatrix suggested, and Samael's frightened emeralds locked upon her shrewd hazels.

"No." Samael's response was immediate and sharp. "I cannot." Draco was walking towards them now, and Samael felt his throat clench as panic set in.

"You cannot what?" Rabastan asked suddenly, appearing behind Bellatrix with Rodolphus and Lucius.

Samael whirled around to glare ferociously at his uncle. "Something that is none of your business, uncle dearest." Belaltrix smiled approvingly at her son, and smirked triumphantly at her brother-in-law.

Rodolphus shared an exasperated look with Lucius, and silently prayed to the Mother that no blood was spilled tonight. Rabastan merely stuck his tongue out at the woman and began regaling Draco and Andras with his various misdeeds and misconducts. Severus, upon hearing Rabastan's conversation, excused himself from his own conversation with Narcissa and Remus, and stalked towards the younger Lestrange brother.

"Rabastan," Severus' silky voice was dangerous as it resounded across the gardens. "Pray tell, why are you informing my son about your conquests?" Severus only sneered in disgust as Rabastan held his hands in surrender, and slowly backed away from the Potions Master.

"Do stand still!" Bellatrix snapped impatiently, before turning imploring eyes upon her son. "Samael, when is your brother going to be here?"

"Marvolo shall be here shortly," he informed them happily, before his smile turned devious. "With his betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Bellatrix screeched, and the rest of the group stared at him varying degrees of shock. "What betrothed?" Samael smiled enigmatically and Bellatrix shook him lightly with impatience. "Samael, you need to tell me who it is! Is it a witch or a wizard? Do I know them?" the witch was growing frantic with her questions and Samael's smile only grew wider.

"Look behind you," he instructed, and immediately nine pairs of eyes stared at the manor doors.

It was Severus who recognised the wizard beside Marvolo first. "Regulus?" he gasped quietly, and took a startled step forwards. Bellatrix's and Narcissa's eyes widened and they moved rapidly towards the two men.

"My lord?" Bellatrix shakily questioned. Marvolo nodded with a gracious smile and released his hold on Regulus. Instantly, the smaller wizard was ensconced within the two witches' arms with mindless words of relief falling from their lips.

"You're back." "You're safe." "Thank the Mother." "Betrothed? To My Lord?" "But how?"

"Regulus?" Severus' deep baritone interrupted the Black family reunion, and watery grey eyes met shining onyx. Regulus gently pushed his cousins' away and pulled Severus into a tight hug.

"Stupid man," Severus murmured. "Charging into battle without a care in the world."

"Shut up, Sevvy, I don't wish to hear your wisdom" Regulus murmured amusedly, and he turned curious grey eyes onto the rest of the congregation. "Now, introduce me to your new family."

Severus gladly complied.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry about the long wait. To any of you who read 'One Night Stand', you know that I had important exams over May and June but I have finished them all now!

Sorry for any mistakes! And I'll reply to all my reviews tomorrow! I love you all! Ta-ta! :)


	29. To Court One's Heart

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>To Court One's Heart<span>

_If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life._

_The Importance of Being Earnest – Oscar Wilde_

* * *

><p>"Vampries do not have an aversion to garlic, just like they cannot be stopped by a stake through the heart," Hermione instructed primly, whilst glancing over her tome to the second-years sitting on the opposite side of the table.<p>

"What?" Cried an outraged voice, and Hermione whipped her head around to stare at the Weasley twins. "I thought I good old garlicy stake would defeat any vamps that came our way." The other twin nodded rapidly in agreement, and the third-year Gryffindor huffed in annoyance at their devilish smirks.

"You know that isn't true," she hissed in return but the twins only shook their heads with a morose expression upon their faces.

"Afraid not, 'Mione," Fred rested his hands upon her shoulders, whilst George rested his arms upon the table and blew a lock of stray hair that had fallen from her bun. Angrily, she waved George out of the way and attempted to stand, but Fred's hands forced her into place.

"Nah ah ah, _'Mione_," George sung lowly, and plucked the heavy book from her fingertips. "You see, you can't rely on everything you read in books. What if a book told you that Dementors could be warded off with spoons?" he questioned lightly, his devilish smirk still fixed upon his face. "Well Gred and I know _that_ isn't true, but then what would happen to you? Poor little you who had gone and raided the Kitchen for all the spoons it contained?"

Hermione's face was reddening with rage, as she glared at the one twin she could see. "I am not an idiot!" she seethed quietly, "I don't believe everything I read. However, it has been proven that vampires are unaffected by garlic and stakes."

"Oooh," Fred whistled quietly whilst removing his hands from her shoulders. "If it's been proven," he trailed off.

George tapped her lightly on the head. "If it's been proven then I suppose we have nothing to complain about,"

"You! You…you," Hermione floundered for words and the twins grinned predatorily at her.

"Oh do stop winding her up!" Ginny exclaimed, as the irate Hermione gripped the desk tightly and silently fumed to herself. "Go bother someone else whilst we learn something."

The twins pouted down at their sister and folded their arms across their chest. "That's a bit rude, isn't it Forge?" Gred enquired in a hurt tone. "Our beloved little sister casting us aside like an old sock!"

Forge nodded despondently, "I know. She's just trying to impress her little friends though," he explained, "I bet you anything, Andras loves it when she gets all domineering." At this, both the twins leered at the Snape who was blushing from his neck upwards.

"Get out!" Ginny demanded loudly whilst rising from her seat as she pointed a shaking finger at her brothers.

Luna was giggling quietly from her seat between Samael and Draco.

"Oh! Better stop that, sis! Poor Andy will be needing a cold shower!" Fred crowed, before breaking down in laughter. Ginny took a threatening step towards her brothers with her wand raised and glowing with her infamous bat-bogey hex. Seeing this, the twins ran in the opposite direction where their laughter could still be heard all the way down the corridor.

Both Andras and Ginny were flushed bright red with embarrassment and Draco raised his eyebrows at the pair. "Well, that was certainly interesting," he drawled amusedly; which only caused Luna to laugh even harder.

Samael patted her lightly on the back, and she eventually calmed down. "Samael?" she asked quietly, and he raised enquiring emeralds upon her. "Have the snuggling snorklangers been visiting you recently?" She reached forward for his cane and fiddled with the raven handle. "They gave you a gift this morning. A new cane."

Draco stiffened at the girl's words, and Samael grabbed his cane back from the Ravenclaw.

"Snuggling snorklangers?" Ginny echoed confusedly, and Luna's eyes brightened at the question.

"They float around people who are being courted," she supplied brightly, oblivious of the shocked expressions on the others' faces. "They're attracted to the positive emotions from the sender and float around the gifts they have sent."

Ginny eagerly leant forward in her seat and cast expectant eyes upon the Lestrange. "Well then? Did they leave a note?"

Samael shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before raising his face in a neutral expression. "Yes."

Ginny's face brightened even further if that was possible. "What did it say then? Did they give their name?" Andras placed a gentle hand on her arm in an attempt to discourage her, but she merely shook it off and glanced back at Samael once again. "Well?"

Samael inclined his head. "They did leave a note, yes. However, they remained anonymous." The girl opened her mouth to speak once more, but Samael cut her off with a sharp look. "I will not reveal what the note said."

Ginny frowned but remained silent.

Andras cleared his throat, and grinned awkwardly at them all. "So, what does defeat a vampire then?" he asked. "I would say _lumos solem _or if in a really dire situation, _fiendfyre _and then run like hell."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "Yes. The book doesn't actually specify a spell; however light certainly is the major thing to ward off vampires." She pawed through the pages of the tome before finding the page she wanted. "The book does mention that silver _could _repel them, but it hasn't been proven. I would wager that silver doesn't have too much of an effect-" the Gryffindor was interrupted by the arrival of a flying parchment aeroplane that crashed into Samael's chest.

Ginny instantly perked up and watched Samael's every move intently. "Is that from your admirer?"

Samael sent her an irritated glance, but it was a rather ashen-face Draco who answered her. "No, it's not," he murmured distractedly, as Samael carefully unfolded the plane. "His admirer sent an origami swan."

Hermione glanced at him shrewdly, "And how do you know that?"

Draco sent her a peeved look at her nosiness, and she simply continued staring at him. "I was in the same room as Samael if you must know," he informed through gritted teeth and she sent an apologetic look.

"Try the _revelare _spell," Andras suggested, "It will tell you who the sender is," he explained, "Unless they have cast anonymity spells on the parchment."

Samael complied, and his expression quickly morphed into one of annoyance. "No cheating, Lestrange. You will just have to wait," Samael read with irritation, and wordlessly set fire to the parchment. "Why would I wish to befriend someone who does not have the common decency to sign their name?"

Hermione scrunched her eyes at the Lestrange. "Why did you accept the courting gift then? Why would you want a partner who does not have the decency to admit who they are?"

Ginny gasped in shock at the other girl, and stared incredulously at her. "It's the romance, Hermione!" she declared wildly, "An anonymous lover is so thrilling! Plus, if you know who your admirer is then you could just tell you what you want. But, this way their gifts remain even more spectacular because they have put so much thought and effort into them."

Hermione still looked confused, and Andras decided to explain something more. "It is also traditional that the admirer remains anonymous until the sender has officialised a betrothal contract with the receiver's parents."

At this, Hermione's confusion morphed into outrage. "Betrothal contracts?!" she all but screeched in horror, "You can't mean Samael will never meet his admirer until they're married? What about free will?"

Draco sneered at the witch in disgust. "It is _traditional _Granger, not compulsory," he stated condescendingly, and the witch bristled at the tone. "Many times, betrothal contracts are drawn up with _both_ parties input. So, no, Samael isn't signing away all his rights away by accepting a courting gift."

"I have _not _accepted the courting gift anyway," Samael stated nonchalantly, "Whilst I am in no way obligated to wed the sender if I accept the courting gift, I do not wish to give the sender false hope. I have no romantic interests at this moment in time." he glanced around the group at this, yet his gaze lingered momentarily upon Draco.

"Just as you should!" Hermione agreed heartily, "You're too young to be thinking of marriage and courtship, you're only thirteen for Merlin's sake!

Ginny dodged unsure glances between Hermione and Samael. "But what if your admirer continues to send you gifts?"

Samael smiled a small smile. "I would have to admire his dedication," Samael offered.

Ginny's brown eyes were wide in astonishment, "But you would still not accept them?"

"No." Samael's answer was short and curt, and Ginny looked somewhat taken aback at its intensity. Samael gave a strained smile, before standing to his feet. "Now, if you will excuse me. I have a meeting with Professor Snape."

* * *

><p>Severus settled himself into the armchair with a relieved sigh. A light tap on his shoulder had him glancing at the smiling face of Remus, as he silently offered a tumbler of scotch. Severus inclined his head at Remus, and accepted the drink with a smile. The smaller man perched himself on the arm of the chair, and rested his arm around Severus' neck.<p>

"Andras came by to see me today," Remus broke the comfortable silence, and Severus rose an inquisitive brow at him. "Apparently, Samael's secret admirer has sent another gift."

"Really?" Severus straightened in the chair, and stared at his lover. "They must be sending them every other month then. January, March, May and now July. What was the gift?"

"Dhalias," Remus answered, "I caught a glimpse of them earlier, and they were beautifully arranged."

Severus frowned thoughtfully, and took a sip of the scotch. "Dignity, elegance and commitment," he murmured, Remus glanced confusedly at him. "That's what dhalias represent. And those are some remarkable qualities to have."

"Indeed," Remus agreed, and gently raked his fingers through Severus' hair. "A new cane, dragon-hide shoes, a book about noble families, dhalias," Remus released an impressed whistle, "It certainly sounds as if his admirer knows him well."

Severus wasn't entirely convinced. "Everyone knows Samael uses a cane, so buying a new one doesn't equate familiarity. Also, most purebloods and halfbloods wear dragon-hide, so again guessing dragon-hide isn't too difficult. The flowers add a personal touch, but from the senders point of view. The sender believes Samael is dignified and elegant, but that could merely be an appreciation from afar."

"The book, though?" Remus asked, when Severus didn't mention it.

"I am unsure," he admitted, "It could be stimulated by the common belief Snakes are interested in politics. But from what I can tell, that book details in lineage and pureblood customs rather than politics itself. So, the book could indicate familiarity between Samael and his admirer."

Remus glanced at his lover in astonishment, before shaking his head. Severus always was a rational thinker. "Well, whoever it is, they must have money."

Severus made a noise of agreement. "They are certainly not cheap gifts," he declared, "That book must have come from family library as it was nearly a century old. Dragon-hide is the most expensive material on the market. Canes are not dear, but the personalisation would have increased the cost."

"Someone with old blood then?" Remus suggested, and Severus nodded. Remus frowned in concentration. "And someone who knows him well enough to know his shoe size."

"No," Severus interrupted Remus' train of thought, "Any of my snakes could discover his shoe size. The dorms can be accessed by all of the boys."

"One of your male snakes then," Remus amended, and glances searchingly at Severus. "Can you think of anyone?"

Severus swirled the scotch absently, "Off the top of my head? Warrington has always had a strange relationship with Samael. Warrington is one of Samael's informants, and he can certainly afford the gifts. Zabini often talks to Samael, and Zabini Manor is famous for its semplice gazania dahlias. Do you know what colour the dahlias were?"

"Purple."

Severus shook his head, "No, semplice gazania's are orange. Never mind, there is also Nott. He does not speak to Samael much, but he is always watching him." Remus glanced at him in alarm, but Severus waved his concern away. "No, Nott is fascinated with Samael but there's nothing malicious about it. The most obvious person I can think of though," Severus paused, and stared into the amber liquid in his glass.

"Yes?" Remus encouraged.

"Think about it, Remus. Who spends the most time with Samael, and practically worships the ground he walks on? Who has vowed to protect Samael with his life? And who is the only person Samael trusts completely?"

Realisation dawned on Remus' face, and he shared a wide-eyes glance with Severus. "Draco," he breathed in shock. "But wouldn't Draco tell Samael it was him?"

Severus scoffed in derision, and downed the remaining scotch. "Draco wouldn't sacrifice his friendship with Samael by telling him. That's why he would send the gifts. To gradually coax Samael into developing feelings for the admirer."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But Samael would accept them immediately if he knew Draco was his admirer."

Severus nodded sagely, "Of course he would!" he agreed quietly, "Those two though," he shook his head in disbelief, "Samael does not believe Draco would ever love him, and even if we were to tell him, he wouldn't accept it until he heard it from Draco's mouth. Draco is confident Samael will fall in love with him eventually, but he will never tell Samael until Samael begins to show an interest in his admirer."

"But Samael won't show an interest in the admirer because he's in love with Draco," Remus stated with a groan of frustration. "Couldn't we tell Draco that Samael was in love with him?"

Again, Severus shook his head. "No," Samael is not ready for that. Undoubtedly, if Draco knew Samael was in love with him, he would scare Samael away with his intensity. Samael must first accept his feelings for Draco before any of this could get better."

"It's ridiculous!" Remus cried in an annoyed voice. "They both love each other, why can't they see it?"

Severus stared at Remus in disbelief, and pierced him with incredulous onyx eyes. "You do remember it took me nearly a year to admit I was in love with you, right?" he questioned, "And the only reason why I told you was because I was going to lose you? If you hadn't seen my Dark Mark I would never have told you."

This time, it was Remus who stared at Severus incredulously. "You had just snogged me breathless!" he declared loudly, "Are you telling me, that after that you _weren't _going to admit your undying love for me!"

Severus' froze under at the genuine irritation in Remus' voice, and slowly met angered green eyes. "Only if you admitted it first."

"Only if I…?" Remus repeated in shock, before his face turned red in righteous anger.

"You were a Gryffindor, I was a Slytherin. I was just protecting myself," he stated simply, "What if that kiss didn't mean anything to you and I had just blurted out my feelings? I wouldn't have been able to live with the shame."

If anything, Severus' calm reasoning only angered Remus further. Leaping from his seat, he towered over Severus and pointed a shaking finger at the man. "Do you think I would just kiss anyone, Severus?" he asked; affronted. "I'm not that kind of man!"

"Of course not!" Severus quickly defended, placing the tumbler aside so he could grab Remus by the arms. "I didn't mean to suggest anything like that. But you have to understand how insecure I was,"

"I…" Remus slumped on himself, and allowed himself to pulled into Severus' arms. "I know," he whispered slowly, and traced light patterns into Severus' shoulder, before releasing a light chuckle. "Merlin, if Draco and Samael are anything like us, it's no wonder they won't admit their feelings to one another!"

Severus' chest shook with the bubble of laughter which escaped him, and he pressed a soft kiss to Remus' temple. "I sure hope they have more sense than us," Severus murmured, and sat back in the armchair; leading Remus onto his lap. "Though, if Samael is as insecure as I was and Draco as secretive, I do believe we shall be having a difficult couple of years ahead of us."

Remus moaned in protest and rested his head on Severus' shoulder whilst Severus' gently stroked Remus' thigh. Moving his head to the right, Severus' lips met Remus in a lazy, sweet kiss. Fingers tangled themselves in Severus' hair, and the kiss intensified.

A knock at the door startled the couple.

"Mmph, go away!" Remus hissed quietly. Severus' chuckled at Remus' irritation, and pressed his lips back onto Remus'.

A second knock at the door caused Severus' to curse softly under his breath, but it was the third one that caused him to react. Tapping Remus gently on the knee, Severus urged his lover to move.

Remus grudgingly stood and moved towards the bedroom, where he stood in the doorway and glared at the door. Severus supressed the amused smile on his face, and fixed an annoyed scowl instead as he swung the door open.

Upon seeing his visitor, Severus' expression morphed into one of pure hatred. "Black," he spat with revulsion. Sirius flinched at the vitriol from Severus' mouth, and stared at the floor. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius raised his eyes to meet Severus', and shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Offering a shallow bow, he swallowed nervously. "Severus Snape, please accept my, Sirius Orion Black's, humblest apologies for all the wrongs and misdeeds I have committed against you during our time of knowing each other," he declared loudly.

A bright light escaped the Black and circled around Severus before sinking into the ground.

Severus stared at his visitor in shock. Sirius Black had never been able to surprise Severus; in fact, the Slytherin prided himself on his inability to be surprised. Yet, the man had somehow achieved the impossible. There was no doubting Sirius' intentions, as magic had valued the man's words and declared them true (as indicated by the light being absorbed by the surroundings).

Sirius scratched the back of his head, and stood awkwardly in the passageway as Severus stared at him. Shaking himself into action, Severus inclined his head at the Black. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, accept your, Sirius Orion Black's, apology."

Grey eyes widened in shock, and Sirius took a startled step backwards "Really?"

Severus scoffed derisively at the other man, yet Sirius did not react to the antagonistic behaviour. "Mother Magic has said you were sincere, Black," he enunciated slowly and clearly, as if he was speaking to a child. "I will not question Mother Magic's decisions. If she deems you sincere, then you are sincere." He fixed a stern glare on the other man. "This does not mean I will forget the wrongs you have committed against me. It merely means I will not punish you for them."

Sirius nodded his head in understanding and made to move away, before hesitating and turning to look Severus in the eyes again. "Robert has been trying to make friends with Samael Lestrange but apparently hasn't had much luck," he informed Severus; frowning slightly as Severus sneered.

"I highly doubt Samael will ever allow that to happen," Severus announced in clipped tones, "Robert has committed many wrongs against Samael, much worse than they ones you ever committed against me," he added when Sirius made to interrupt, yet at this admission, Sirius moved backwards as if struck. "It is not my story to tell, and I shall not betray Samael's trust by revealing his past to you. Just know, Samael has every right to refuse Robert's friendship."

Sirius was shaking lightly in a mixture of shock and anger. "How could that even be possible?" he questioned roughly, and buried his face in his hands. Glancing back at Severus, he was visibly stressed.

"I'm sorry for anything Robert has done. I know I haven't been the best role model for him," Sirius tactfully ignored the Severus' snort of amusement. "I'm trying my best. I was surprised when he said he wanted to be friends with Lestrange, and I tried to encourage it. But if the friendship will never happen, I'm afraid of what Robert will do."

Severus stiffened at Sirius words, and glared down at Sirius like a predator inspecting its prey. "Are you informing me that Robert Potter is plotting ill-will on one of my snakes?" he questioned quietly; dangerously.

"No!" Sirius denied hotly, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I hardly know Robert anymore, not if what you say is true. I don't know what he is capable of. All I know is that if he can't be friends with Lestrange, he might take it out on him instead," Sirius tugged harshly at his hair. "I'll try talking to him and find out what he will do if Lestrange rejects him. No doubt, with Bella as his mother, Lestrange is a master dueller."

Severus smug look was all the answer Sirius needed, and he released a relived breath.

"Just tell him to be on his guard, please?" he begged Severus desperately.

Severus regarded the man before him solemnly. The Sirius Black before him was not the same as the man he knew last year. Something inside him was missing. It was if, he was a puppet whose strings had been cut, and lost all sense of direction.

"Why?" Severus asked, "Why have you told me this?"

Sirius stare was brimming with raw emotion as he glanced at Severus. "I'm trying to get better," he murmured hollowly, "Peter, James and Lily have betrayed and I lost my brother and my Black heritage because of my arrogant behaviour. Plus, I promised Remus I would change." Sirius' voice hardened with each word he spoke. "I'm off the drink, I've got a job down at honeydukes in Diagon and I'm trying to sort my life out. Hopefully, Robert's too."

Something strange fluttered in Severus' chest as Sirius spoke. Something Severus never thought he would ever feel towards the man.

Respect.

* * *

><p>"Tell me more about your fathers' got together," Ginny enthused brightly, whilst skipping down the corridor. She released a light laugh as Andras jogged to keep with her. Spinning around, she grabbed his hand and tried to get him to skip with her.<p>

Andras glanced at her in exasperation, before taking longer strides to match her speed. "I don't know why," he told her, "I've already told you it before."

Ginny pouted and tugged at his hand. Andras glanced at her pleading face, and his expression softened. Clearing his throat, he told her rather nonchalantly. "There's nothing much to tell, really. They became friends in seventh-year but had a major falling out before Father left to begin his apprenticeship," he explained, and Ginny was focused on his every word with rapt attention.

Andras fought down the squirming feeling in his chest.

"Dad's friends turned on him when they found out he was gay and hospitalised him for over a year," Ginny gasped softly, and tightened her grip on his hand. Andras smiled reassuringly at her. "When my father eventually found my dad again, they began dating."

The witch released a squeal of excitement, and added an extra skip to her step. "It's just so romantic!" she gushed happily, and cast her shining eyes onto Andras.

Andras gave her a dubious look. "Hospitalisation isn't very romantic, Ginny," he stated and Ginny huffed with irritation.

"I _know _that!" she declared hotly, "But the fact that your fathers' found one another after so much turmoil is just so lovely! And your father didn't fall for anyone else whilst your dad was hospitalised; how rare is that?" she questioned in shock, "Your father must have been truly in love with your dad," the witch breathed a wistful sigh. "I hope I'll find true love one day."

Ginny clenched Andras' arm tighter and shortened the distance between them. Andras gasped lightly, and forced his beating heart to calm. Glancing down, he saw Ginny's disappointed frown before she released Andras' arm and skipped ahead.

"Ginny! Wait!" Andras called and hurried after her quickly. Rounding the corner, Andras felt his heart sink and fury to erupt inside him. Robert Potter and Ronald Weasely had cornered Ginny against a wall whilst they screamed in her face.

Withdrawing his wand, Andras thundered towards the two Gryffindor boys. Gritting his teeth, he fixed his deadliest glare upon them. "Release her this second!" he commanded lowly.

Robert laughed derisively, and Ron sneered. "Make me, Snivilus," Robert crowed triumphantly.

Ginny peered desperately at Andras, and the outrage and fear in her eyes made Andras' blood boil. "Stay away, Andras!" she shouted ardently, "They're not worth it."

Robert's sneer grew larger. "Yeah, Snivilius," he agreed smarmily, "We're not worth it," and with a smug grin he leant further towards Ginny and urged Ron to do the same.

Snarling, Andras allowed his dad's curse to brighten his amber eyes and elongate his teeth ever so slightly. Swiftly, he had his wand-tip pressed into Robert's jugular. Moving closer, Andras invaded the Potter's personal space and smiled predatorily.

"One word, Potter," he murmured softly; deadly, "One word, and you'll be in unimaginable pain." Robert took a step back in fright, whilst Ron tightened his grip upon his sister.

Andras' smile grew larger.

Straightening his back, he smirked down at the red-head. " I'll repeat myself again. Release her."

Ron's face grew red with indignation and he fumbled for his wand. Sighing, Andras pressed himself closer and dug his wand further into Ron's skin, turning it white from lack of blood. "I do hate repeating myself, Weasley," he informed drolly, "Stupefy!" he cast in a bored tone, watching with restrained glee as the wizard was thrown backwards into the wall.

Moving towards Ginny, Andras didn't see Robert until he was on his back; winded and breathless for air. Robert crouched over Andras' incapacitated form. "Get away from her, Snivilus!" he demanded roughly.

Andras rubbed uselessly at his head, he pulled his fingers back in surprise to find blood glistening on them. Robert grinned widely, and cradled his right fist to his chest. "More where that came from, Snivilus," he goaded, and spat to the side of Andras' body.

Andras glared up at Robert; baring his sharp teeth at the Gryffindor.

"Robert!" Ginny shrieked and said boy whipped his head around and stared wide-eyed at the girl.

"Gin?" he questioned confusedly, and took a step towards her.

Shakily, Ginny straightened her arm and pointed her wand at her brother. She gulped uneasily. "Don't make me do this, Robert," she warned quietly, "Get away from him."

Robert reared back as if struck. His face mottled red with fury; he tightened his fingers into fists. "Why, Gin?!" he screamed at her, "He's not good enough for you. He's scum!"

"Don't you dare insult him!" she returned angrily, and walked closer to her brother. "Andras is the nicest person you could ever meet!"

"He's a Snape! He's evil!" Robert bemoaned, and collapsed atop of Andras to begin pummelling his fists into Andras' stomach.

Screeching, Ginny flung her arm out. "Petrificus totalus!"

Robert's limbs seized up, and he fell to the ground with a loud thud; staring at Ginny in a mix of betrayal and vengeance, as the girl gingerly tended to Andras' wounds. It was, of course, at this moment that the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the corridor and the fuming face of Remus Lupin glared at the four students.

"Explain yourselves. Immediately!" he demanded in clipped tones, his green eyes settling upon the witch when none made to answer.

"Sir!" Ginny's eyes were wide with fright as she stared at her professor. "Ron and Robert were harassing me. Andras tried to help but Robert attacked him. And I…" she glanced at the ground in embarrassment, "I cursed him to get him off Andras."

Remus raised an eyebrow, and crouched low to assess Andras' injuries. Uttering quietly under his breath, Remus quickly healed his son's wounds. "And what happened to Mr Weasley?" he enquired, as he pulled Andras to his feet.

Ginny paused nervously and darted her eyes towards her friend. Andras sighed, and Andras idly brushed some lint from his shoulder. "That was me," he murmured quietly, "I attacked Weasley to get him off Ginny."

"I see," Remus contemplated the situation, and frowned at all four students. "Twenty points from Ravenclaw for attacking a fellow student," he declared tightly and Andras nodded at the judgement. Remus turned to face the snickering Gryffindor boys. "And sixty points from Gryffindor," Weasley's eyes grew round in indignation, yet no sound escaped him. Remus glanced at a chagrined Andras, and cast the counter-curse on both Robert and Ron.

"-not fair! It was Snivilus who attacked us first!"

Remus narrowed his gaze on the Potter. "Ten points for that derogatory comment, Mr Potter."

"No!" Weasley argued, flinging his arms wide in anger. "It was that tosser who cursed me. Robert was only defending me!"

"Fifteen points for swearing, Mr Weasley! I shall not hear that foul language in my presence."

Turning towards the other two students, Remus smiled slightly. "Fifteen points to Ravenclaw for defending a fellow student," he stated, "And five points for promoting inter-house unity."

Andras' smile grew larger, whilst Ginny beamed at the man as she rubbed comforting circles into Andras' back. In contrast, Potter scowled furiously and began his ranting tirade once more.

"Screw that!" Robert marched righteously towards Remus. "That little bastard doesn't deserve points! You're an idiot!"

Remus glared down at the younger student, and withheld his exasperated sigh. "A further fifteen points for your language, Mr Potter. And ten points for your insult." Remus smiled at the child, baring his sharp canines at the boy. "Congratulations, Mr Potter. You have successfully lost Gryffindor House one hundred points."

"Fuck that!" Potter declared and stormed off.

Ron darted his eyes between his departing friend and the stern-faced Professor, before dashing after Robert. Once the two Gryffindor boys had left the vicinity, Remus slumped in relief and gathered Andras into his arms. The younger wizard squirmed in his father's grasp, but made no real effort to leave.

"Thank Merlin," Remus breathed, and stroked Andras' hair gently. "I was on the third corridor when I smelt your blood; I came as swiftly as I could," Remus' tone was apologetic. "I was ready to tear them limb from limb. Mooney was baying for their blood."

Ginny stared at the two wizards wide-eyed, a look of realisation dawning upon her face. Andras mumbled quietly under his breath and smiled a small smile at Remus. "Don't worry, dad. I'm fine; Ginny made sure of that," at this, Andras smiled a beaming smile at the girl who flushed under the praise.

Remus nodded and pierced the girl with his determined gaze. "Thank you, Miss Weasley," he muttered softly, "You helped Andras a lot today. You're a good friend for him."

Ginny stared at her shoes and chewed her bottom lip. "I…I didn't do anything really, sir." Her voice was humble, and she missed the fond expression on Andras' face as he stared at her in wonder.

Remus' smile was kind and genuine as he regarded the witch. "Nonsense, Miss Weasley. You made all the difference. Now, if Charles ever wants a night out with his friends, tell him that you're welcome at our house."

Ginny glanced immediately from the floor with uncertainty, and she shuffled closer towards Andras.

Remus chuckled lightly at her shocked expression and raised an eyebrow in enquiry. "What? I'm pretty sure if Andras gets his way, we will be seeing a lot more of each other, Miss Weasley." The girl still looked unsure, and he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. "Don't worry about Severus, Professor Snape I mean. He wouldn't dare upset Andras or I by upsetting you."

Ginny smiled shakily at Remus, who had released Andras from his arms. Said child subsequently gently grasped Ginny's elbow and led her away towards the Great Hall.

Remus watched the two children with a proud smile before his expression darkened.

Robert Potter would regret the day he harmed the cub of a child of the moon.

* * *

><p>The lone wizard appeared in the distance, ambling slowly towards the castle. Minerva pursed her lips as she watched his approach, and made her way towards the entrance. From her closer position, Minerva could make out the desolation written across the man's face. She inclined her head at him as he neared. "Sirius." The disapproval was obvious in her voice, and the man stared at the ground in shame. "You are not here to cause trouble. You are here to discuss Robert's disgraceful behaviour."<p>

Sirius nodded and stepped into the castle. "I understand, ma'am. I will not object to any punishment you see fit for Robert. In fact, if I do not think it severe enough, I shall add my own." Sirius' grey eyes were determined as they stared at his previous colleague. "I shall not let Robert turn into James or I."

Surprise flitted across Minerva's face before she schooled it into neutrality. "Very well,"

"How is he?" Sirius questioned quietly, "Snape's son, I mean. How badly did Robert hurt him?"

"Mr Snape has been healed of his wounds, but he is understandably distressed with the ordeal. Regardless, that does not in any way detract from the severity of the situation. Mr Potter's antagonising and violent behaviour is worrying and…"

"Completely unacceptable," Sirius interrupted with a small frown. "I think that I'm not best guardian for Robert," he admitted quietly; steadfastly ignoring the woman's gaze., "For most of his life, I have been a bad influence on him and have contributed towards his current behaviour. For me to suddenly punish him for the behaviour I used to encourage, I fear he will lose all confidence in my abilities."

The witch regarded her former-student with resignation. "I am afraid that is something only you can resolve, Sirius," she informed him whilst opening the door to her office. "Now, do come in. I'm sure we can figure something out between us."

Sirius smiled thankfully at the witch, and followed her into her office.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And so the plot thickens!

For those of you wanting to know the back-story of Remus & Severus, read my story Dance Inside. And for those of you who are already reading Dance Inside, there's only one chapter left!


	30. Taking a Step Into the Unknown

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span>Taking a Step Into the Unknown<span>

_I can't do well when I think you're gonna leave me,_

_But I know I try._

_Are you gonna leave me now?_

_Can't you be believing now?_

_We are the People – Empire of the Sun_

* * *

><p>"Come on, Sirius!" Robert enthused, whilst pulling on his godfather's hand. Sirius sighed fondly, and allowed himself to be dragged through the grounds. Laughter erupted from all corners, as families and friends danced and chatted merrily in and around their tents.<p>

It was if a different child was in Robert's place; he had really improved since their talk after the 'Snape incident'.

Robert had written an apology letter for Snape's child on his own accord; Sirius hadn't even had to suggest it! Robert then apologised to Sirius for shaming the Potter name, and had completed all his homework within the first week of the holidays.

Really, Sirius thought Robert deserved a reward, and the Quidditch World Cup seemed the obvious choice.

Ireland's victory over Bulgaria was well deserved; considering the damn nerve of the Bulgarians. Zograf definitely had some damn cheek, since he cobbed poor Mullet multiple times. Sirius shook his head in disgust. Dirty move that was, but Quigley had them regretting their cheating ways with his well-aimed bludger at Krum's nose.

"Sirius!" Robert called, more impatiently this time, as he tugged Sirius into the adjacent row of tents. "Ron's over there! Please can we see them?" he asked, eyes bright with pleading. Sirius nodded instinctively with a warm feeling in his chest. Robert had said _please_.

"Ron!" Robert boomed, and Robert's fellow red-head glanced up. Ron's answering smile was large and bright as he crushed the smaller-wizard in a hug.

Sirius vaguely watched the two boys interact, as Ron happily lorded over Robert the fact that he had grown at least three inches during the holidays. "Mate, you're as small as a girl!" Ron laughed uproariously, whilst Robert scowled and punched his friend on the arm.

Sirius supressed his smirk at Robert's outraged expression, and instead engaged Arthur in a bit of conversation, which the younger wizard regretted almost immediately. Sirius always knew Arthur to be a kind man, slightly stubborn and stuck in his ways, but a kind man nonetheless. Recently, however Sirius had noticed things that were just slightly _off_ about the man.

Take for example, his refusal to mention his daughter in conversation. Now, Sirius understood what it meant to have bad blood within the family, and from this he knew how infantile most family feuds were. However, Sirius had not realised that Arthur's disappointment in his daughter had escalated to the point where he refused to bring her to family events.

Rather hesitatingly, Sirius pointed this out. "Don't you think it slightly mean leaving Ginny out of this?"

Instantly, Arthur's gaze narrowed and he fixed Sirius with a gimlet stare. His chest puffed in self-righteous anger whilst his face flamed with embarrassment. "Ginny has disgraced the Weasely name!" he hissed menacingly, "Consorting with Malfoy, she should feel lucky Charlie took her in last year."

Sirius was all but gaping at the older wizard, and was floundering for words. "You can't mean you kicked Ginny out the Burrow?" he asked loudly and incredulously.

"She left of her own accord," he informed the Black imperiously, "She refused to come home for the holidays, and Molly and I decided it would be easier for everyone if we just let her stay wherever she chose to go."

Sirius was actually staring open-mouthed at Arthur in shock now, "Don't you know where she's staying?"

Arthur shrugged rather nonchalantly. "Charlie has most probably taken her in again; the boy doesn't understand the ramifications of his sister's actions you see," Arthur said in a scandalised tone, "The girl may have stopped with the Lovegoods or," a pained expression cross Arthur's face, "the Snapes."

Conflicting emotions warred within Sirius at the mention of the Snapes. Sirius knew Snape wasn't the evil man he once believed, and Sirius found his previous actions against Severus deplorable. However, that does nothing to stop the decades of revulsion from rearing its ugly head.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius forced down his hatred and attempted to calm himself before turning to face Arthur. "I do not see anything wrong with either of those two families," Sirius stated simply, before walking a short distance away, yet not so far that he was unable to keep an eye on his young charge.

Excited whispered broke out next to him, and Sirius frowned at a couple of giggling teenage girls who were fixated with something just beyond Sirius' line of vision. "I know…" one of the girl's whispered loudly, before releasing a delighted squeal. "So cute!"

"-Slytherin! Lord Slytherin! Who was that with you?" someone declared loudly. The girls behind Sirius giggle even louder and more people hurried towards them. "Lord Slytherin! Was he your betrothed?!"

"Are you betrothed, Lord Slytherin?"

"Is he from an old family?"

"What's his name?"

"Adorable!"

The voices grew louder and clamoured over each other until the noise was almost deafening. An elbow dug sharply into Sirius' side as a short-man hefting a camera under his arm barged passed him. "Outta the way! Outta the way!" he urged, before blinding Sirius with the flash of his camera.

Sirius could see Lord Slytherin now. His looming figure was almost as recognisable as that of Lucius Malfoy or Albus Dumbledore. With his regal looks, dark hair and impeccable clothing, he was an astounding sight to behold.

Slytherin had his arm wrapped lightly around a smaller-wizard, yet Sirius couldn't see the man's face as he had hid his head protectively in Slytherin's side. Gently, Slytherin manoeuvred his partner into an empty tent and faced the crowd. Lifting a hand in the air, silence descended quickly.

Slytherin's smile was warm yet dangerous, and that contradiction set Sirius' head in a blaze. "Please calm yourselves," his voice was silky in its quality, and stirred something with his gut. Sirius unwilling shivered and shifted closer to the crowd, finding solace in the proximity to others. "I will try to answer any questions you may have."

Immediately, the crowd began to demand answers. Their raucous behaviour creating a loud cacophony of sound. Slytherin raised his hand once more and lazily pointed it towards a wizard on the edge of the crow. Smiling charmingly he questioned. "What do you wish to know, sir?"

Smiling shakily under the crowd's attention and the unnerving stare of Slytherin, the wizard took a steadying breath. "Was that man your betrothed, sir?" he asked quietly. All eyes fixed upon Slytherin to gauge his response, which was another disarming smile.

The powerful wizard nodded before he articulated. "Yes, we have been betrothed since ninety-eighty." Gasps shook the crowd, and Sirius wouldn't be surprised if they had sucked all the air from the sky. Fourteen years was a long betrothal after all.

Marvolo pointed towards a young witch in the middle of the crowd, who was clinging tightly to her mother's robes. "And your question, young lady?"

The girl paled under his gaze, and looked upon her mother for direction. The girl's mother nodded encouragingly, and the younger witch darted her gaze between Slytherin and the ground whilst tugging at the hem of her sleeves. "I…Isn't that a long time? Shouldn't you be married by now?"

Slytherin's smile remained in place, yet Sirius saw the tightening of his face as anger flashed through his eyes. "Unfortunately, my betrothed has been in a coma for the past thirteen years. He only awoke at Yule. So as you can imagine, we are enjoying the time we missed together."

A chorus of cooing erupted from behind Sirius, and he internally rolled his eyes at their behaviour. However, he understood the sentiment. Marvolo thanked the crowd for their understanding and directed his next question to one of the teenage witch's behind him.

Said girl giggled excitedly and shared an important glance with her friend, who shook her arm lightly and nodded. "Did you," she paused for an approving nod from her other friend, who was mindlessly twirling her hair whilst staring dreamily at Slytherin. "Did you wake him with a kiss?"

Snorts of laughter echoed through the crowd; Sirius amongst them. Slytherin's laughter was hidden much more diplomatically behind a charming smile, but it was quite obvious to those who knew the signs of disdain. "No, if that would have cured him, he would have awoken instantly." The coos were much louder this time, especially since the embarrassed expression upon Slytherin's face was quite convincing.

"It was my brother who awakened my betrothed," Marvolo informed them off-handedly, and once more gasps struck the crowd. Marvolo fixed a stern glare upon the whispering people, and the silence was bone-chilling. "Do not investigate my brother. He is just a child and is currently focused upon his studies." He raised a hand to prevent their forthcoming questions. "Therefore, I shall not reveal his name, his age, nor the school he is attending."

The curt words proved as a dismissal, and the crowd gradually dispersed. An amused chuckle carried over on the wind, and a pale emerged from the tent and settled upon Slytherin's arm as Slytherin's betrothed beamed at him.

Sirius felt his chest tighten in something akin to panic.

Because that wizard, Slytherin's betrothed, was Sirius' little brother. The brother Sirius had long believed to be dead.

Grey eyes met grey. Regulus whispered something softly to Slytherin, and those intense teal eyes bore into Sirius. Pressure built up behind Sirius' left eye, and he recognised the symptoms of Leglimency, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care.

Slytherin must have seen something in Sirius, for the taller wizard nodded approvingly at Sirius and inclined his head towards the unoccupied tent.

Shaking lightly, Sirius smiled a watery smile at his little brother and slowly moved towards the couple. His heart was beating in his throat and his head was fuzzy with adrenaline, yet he could not stop the insane smile spreading across his face.

Before James Potter, Regulus was Sirius' closest and sole confidant. They were almost inseparable. Sirius was Regulus' role model, and Regulus was Sirius' most trusted person.

It was time to make Regulus proud again.

* * *

><p>"Right children. Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," the dark-haired man greeted lightly, whilst raking his fingers through his brown locks. Several girls sighed dreamily at the sight, and the professor smiled good-naturedly at him. No matter what his sister-in-law believed, Rabastan did have <em>some <em>morals, such as not bedding underage students.

Rabastan flicked through some parchments upon his desk, and glanced upon his class. "I see from the notes, that your previous professor was very proficient and taught you some of the fourth-year curriculum." Many of the students nodded, and Rabastan leaned against his desk to assess the students. "Knowing this, we shall briefly review the matter you have previously learned. That way, we can go into more detail should you need it."

Rabastan paged lightly through the tome in front of him, then idly flicked his wand so that notes appeared upon the blackboard. Rabastan instructed the children to open their tomes to the appropriate page, and settled himself back into the desk. However, when he made to speak an insistent waving hand interrupted him.

Rabastan rose an eyebrow in enquiry, disapproval clearly emanating from every pore. "Mr Potter?" he questioned curtly.

Unabashed, the Gryffindor stared wonderingly at the wizard. "Are you Lestrange's father?" Potter's eyes were round with curiosity, and his question was instantly met with several derisive snorts from the Slytherins.

It was nothing compared to Rabastan's reaction, as he stared in horror at the Potter. Samael chuckled lightly at his uncle, and raised his voice for the class to hear. "Rabastan," he called sweetly, the tone frighteningly reminiscent of his mother's when she was about to torture someone. "Please do not look so mortified at the prospect of being my father. I may take offence."

Rabastan seemed to shake himself together at Samael's words, and smiled a charming smile upon the child. "Your father is lucky to have you as his son, Samael," Rabastan stated calmly, "You're easily the smartest and most powerful child in the room."

Samael nodded, accepting the praise with a gracious smile. Draco positively beamed at Rabastan, whilst Potter frown confusedly at the professor.

Rabastan sighed in exasperation and furrowed his brows at the Potter. "To answer your question, Mr Potter. No, I am not Samael's father, I am his uncle." Potter's confused face morphed into one of realisation, and Rabastan waved towards the board. "Now, let's begin today's lesson with defensive shields. Who can name the most common shield?"

Rabastan glanced quizzically at the class but he focused upon Hermione Granger as she persistently waved her hand in the air.

* * *

><p>"So," Samael began as he waltzed into Rabastan's classroom later on that evening. "What are our plans for Karkaroff?" An alarmed expression crossed Rabastan's face, and Samael enquired an eyebrow at him. "Honestly, Rabastan," he stated amusedly. "I created a silencing ward before I even entered the room."<p>

Rabastan had the good sense to appear abashed and he placed the paperwork aside. "Your brother wants him by Yule," Rabastan informed whilst leaning forward in his seat. Samael nodded in understanding and hoisted himself upon one of the desks. "I have heard rumours of a Yule ball which all Headmasters are duty-bound to attend."

Samael glanced thoughtfully at his uncle, and tapped his cane on the ground in a staccato rhythm. "A distraction at this ball perhaps?" he suggested quietly, "It should not be too difficult of a task, especially if the Weasley twins are allowed near the drinks." Samael shared a glance with Rabastan, who shook his head.

Samael rolled his eyes in irritation. "Of course I am not going to invite the Weasley twins into the fold, Rabastan," he chided lightly, "I may merely suggest a few ideas that have the optimum result when in a large crowd of people. The twins would hardly be able to resist the opportunity the ball presents, I would merely be assisting them with their plans."

"They would take their blame?" he questioned shrewdly, and Samael snorted lightly in amusement.

"The twins adore being recognised for their work. If they plan a magnificent prank, then they would shout their names from the rafters to be heard."

Rabastan frowned at his nephew and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The idea sounds promising. However, it would be wise to create a second solution also."

Samael nodded, and shifted closer to his uncle. "That is true," he conceded, and pushed the papers further up the desk in order to find a more comfortable position. "Let us not forget, Marvolo wishes to acquire the Goblet of Fire too."

Rabastan nodded, and grabbed a quill from his desk draw. "Now what constitutes a distraction that provides enough noise to allow the kidnapping of a skilled dueller? Poisoning? Disfigurement? Death?"

Samael chuckled quietly, and glanced amusedly at his uncle. "You are thinking too seriously, uncle," Samael admonished whilst tapping a light rhythm upon the table. "I have found there is nothing so distracting or as cumulative as a drunken brawl."

A slow smirk stretched Rabastan's face, and he cast an approving glance over his nephew before outlining their plans upon some spare parchment.

* * *

><p>"Samael," Draco called over the empty dormitory, to where the Lestrange was lounging upon his bed. It had been the first time Draco was able to get Samael alone since they began the term in September, since Samael spent most of his time holed up with Rabastan discussing whatever plans they were making.<p>

It was early-December now, and Draco was worried at the stress Samael was being subjected. The long hours and severity of the plans were taking their toll on the Lestrange. And though Samael did not dare admit it, Draco could see the weariness in his eyes and the slump in his shoulders.

Samael made a noise of acknowledgement, and Draco tried not to laugh at Samael's grumpy tone.

"It is the Yule ball soon," Draco commented casually. Nervously, he rubbed the skin just under his elbow, silver eyes shining in the dimly-lit room.

Samael propped himself upon his elbows, to glare at Draco from across the room. "Pray tell, Dragon. Is there a point to this conversation?"

The irritated reply caused a ripple of laughter to escape the blonde, and he grinned at his friend. "Will you be attending the ball?"

Samael's glare intensified at Draco's question. "Are you being deliberately obtuse, Dragon?" he muttered - frustrated, "It is mandatory for all students fourth-year and above to attend, so obviously I shall be going."

Draco grin fell at the flash of uncertainty upon Samael's face before it was smothered by Samael's natural mask. "What is the problem with the ball, Samael?" he enquired lightly, "It is an opportune moment to establish and strengthen political alliances. I would have thought it was an event you were most looking forward to."

Samael frowned softly, and Draco's heart tugged at how lost Samael looked at that moment. Draco rose silently from his bed and knelt beside Samael, before grasping his hand lightly. "What is the matter, Samael?"

Silver eyes stared intently at Samael, and Samael's cheeks flushed red in what Draco presumed was embarrassment. Shifting uncomfortably, Samael tugged at Draco's hand in futility and mumbled quietly under his breath.

Draco tightened his grip upon Samael's hand, and leaned closer towards the raven-haired boy. "Could you repeat that please, Samael?"

Samael glared harder, face flaming. "I _said_ that I do not know how to dance."

Realisation spread through Draco like wildfire, and a fond feeling swelled in his stomach. The urge to remove Samael's frown was paramount, but not more so than Draco's desire to kiss him.

Nary an inch separated them, and Draco could feel Samael's breath, hot against his lips. Sharp, emerald eyes were blown wide with excitement, and the dizzying sensation had Draco gasping for breath as his fears were assuaged.

It seemed that reciprocation would not be a problem. That is for the physical aspect of the relationship. However, the blonde was still uncertain to the emotional side. The blonde knew that Samael cared for him, but how deep that affection ran was an unknown to the Malfoy. All Draco knew was that he would have to wait a while longer until Samael's feelings were a sure thing. After all, a Malfoy always gets what they want.

With a great effort, Draco pulled away and restored a decent distance between them before replying. "I could teach you if you would like?" he offered breathlessly, "My waltz is a tad atrocious, but my foxtrot isn't too shabby."

Samael's eyes were round with an emotion Draco could not place. It wasn't fear but something very close to it, and Draco knew he would be disappointed with Samael's answer. "I appreciate the offer, Dragon. However, I am afraid I do not have time to trifle."

Oddly, Samael's answer stimulated a wave of anger in the blonde and he fixed fierce silver orbs upon the Lestrange. "You are wearing yourself thin, Samael," he warned quietly, "You should have time to relax."

Samael reared back as if he was physically struck, and levelled an enraged glare upon the blonde. "And who are you to presume to dictate my life?" he questioned hotly whilst pulling his hand free from Draco's grip.

Draco matched Samael's anger with equal severity, "I am your friend, Samael," his retort sharp, "Friends worry about one another. Forgive me for merely stating my concerns."

With those words, Draco stalked from the dormitory; bounding down the steps with the grace and danger of an angered gazelle. Scanning the common room, his eyes quickly found Parkinson and Zabini talking in hushed whispers.

"Parkinson. Zabini," he greeted coolly, before taking an armchair opposite the two Slytherins. They both stared at him with wariness as he began to agitatedly tap his feet against the ground.

"Draco," Zabini answered amicably, and angled his body towards the blonde. "How are you this evening?"

Silver eyes glanced up with frustration. "I am fine, thank you," he bit out roughly, continuing his angered rhythm against the ground. "How are you?"

Zabini seemed startled with the force behind Draco's words, and he stumbled for an appropriate response. "I am well, thank you for asking. Pansy and I were just discussing Nott's upcoming betrothal to Bulstrode."

Draco froze, and looked upon the others in surprise and Pansy gaped at him in shock.

"Didn't you know, Draco?" she burst out, leaning forward in her seat to gauge Draco's response. "Nott was moaning about it before you went to the dorms. Nott's father forced him to court Millicent," Pansy informed, distaste colouring her words. "Theodore and Millicent are close friends but I don't think either were wanting to be married."

"It's a complete contrast to Lestrange's courting," Zabini mused quietly, and Draco instantly focused upon the other wizard. Zabini faltered somewhat under Draco's intense gaze. "The person courting Lestrange is doing it of his own free will."

Draco's eyebrows rose into his hairline, and he fixed the other wizard with a scrutinizing gaze. "And how did you reach that assessment?"

Zabini paled and shifted closer to Pansy. "I may have read one of the letters," he murmured, and Draco instantly reddened with anger. Zabini rose his hands in surrender, and sent an impeaching glance at the blonde. "I'm sorry, Draco. I know I shouldn't have, but it was just lying on the bed and the temptation was too great."

Draco forced himself to calm. Curiosity was on of a Slytherin's major traits, and it was common knowledge that if something was left unattended, it was fair game. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco pierced Zabini with his eyes. "And what did the letter reveal to you, Zabini?"

The wizard released a sigh of relief. "The sender is obviously infatuated with Lestrange. The words he used were romantic and heartfelt. I just," Zabini paused and shared an important look with Pansy. "I just worry that Lestrange or his admirer will be forced into a situation similar to Nott's."

Instantly, Draco's heart fell into his stomach. He hadn't ever thought of the possibility of his parents forcing him into marriage with another person. But Lucius Malfoy was of the same mind set as Nott Sr. They were close friends and often dined together. What if Lucius followed Nott's lead, and told Draco to marry someone?

After all, Draco's parents had an arranged marriage and found love. What if, under some misguided sense of duty, Lucius believed Draco would only find love through an arranged marriage?

Sick to the stomach, Draco knew instantly who his parent's first choice would be. He met the warm hazel eyes of Pansy and grimaced. Whilst beautiful, Pansy's eyes were nothing compared to the striking emeralds of Samael. The way they would sparkle with happiness, and darken with anger, and the way those jaded orbs could pierce into your soul sent shivers down Draco's spine.

Biting his lip softly, Draco was determined not to reveal the effect Zabini's words had had on him. His mask was shaky, and he didn't think he was able to hide his emotions for much longer. Standing, Draco spared them a strained smile and departed from the room at a sedate pace.

Taking a darkened corridor to the left, he emerged in a secluded alcove. Groaning in frustration, he began to pace the floor. How could he have forgotten his parents' plans? He had always known that his father wished for him to marry young and continue the Malfoy name. How could Draco forget that, and believe he could find happiness?

Well, Draco knew that answer to his questions. Samael was the answer. Draco was lost when it came to Samael. There was just something about the other wizard that called Draco to him and caused the blonde to forget everything else. Samael was the centre of Draco's universe, and it did not matter if Samael ruined him, Draco would always gravitate towards him again.

He was hopelessly in love with his best friend, and he hated himself at how deep he had allowed himself to fall. He hated himself even more for believing there could be something more between the two of them. Sending those ridiculous origami swans with his feelings pathetically spilled across the parchment.

"Shit!" he cursed silently and sank to the ground. How did he let himself become like this? This pathetic shell of what he once was? Bitterly, Draco remembered his training. A Malfoy never pities himself, rule number thirty-one, they always pity others.

Malfoys were the epitome of good fortune, grace and confidence, and they always get what they want.

Draco wanted Samael, there was no doubt about that. His parents wouldn't want Draco to court Samael, of that there was also no doubt in Draco's mind. The question was, would Draco abandon his inheritance, perhaps even his parents love, for the wizard?

The answer was startling to Draco. He blinked: once, twice, before the bitter smile stretched his face.

Of course he would.

* * *

><p>Laughter bubbled around him, and Draco could vaguely make out the shape of Samael making his way through the crowds. Stifling a groan, Draco wondered whether Samael had deliberately chosen such a form-fitting outfit in order to send Draco into a tizzy.<p>

"Dragon," Samael's voice was dark, and the honest to Merlin, reprimand within his tone had a silly grin stretch itself across the blonde's face.

Twirling the champagne flute in the air, Draco spun upon his heel to face Samael straight on. "Samael?" He answered brightly, and Samael's eye twitched in annoyance.

"Put your glass down, Dragon," he murmured softly, and reached out a pale hand to grab the offending object, yet Draco stubbornly waved it out of Samael's reach. "The Weasley twins have laced the chapmagne with and insobriety potion. Increasing the potency of the alcohol tenfold."

If anything, this caused Draco's grin to grow larger. Plan forming in his head, he took a step forward. Invading Samael's personal space, Draco laced an arm around Samael's neck, champagne flute dangling limply from his delicate fingers.

Samael stiffened at the contact. "You are drunk, Draco," he stated accusingly.

"Not drunk!" Draco declared, offended at the mere prospect. "I am delightfully spiffy!" Samael's jaw tightened, and Draco pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of it. "Relax, Samael!" Draco laughed happily, "You're too serious."

Samael jerked away from Draco's hold, "W...Why did you do that, Draco?" he questioned, voice high and panicked.

Draco smiled enigmatically, "What? This?" he asked innocently, pressing another kiss to Samael's jaw. Samael nodded, and Draco's smile grew. "Because I wanted to."

Samael recoiled sharply and prised the glass from Draco's loose grip. Sternly, he faced the blonde and instructed harshly. "Do not drink anything else, Dragon. Let us find you a sobriety potion. I am sure Severus must have one." With that, Samael grasped Draco's arm tightly and searched the crowd for the distinctive figure of their Potions Master.

Draco, however, had other ideas, and escaped from Samael's hold. The raven-haired wizard stared quizzically at the blonde, and Draco shook his head. "Not going!" he whined loudly, "Want to dance!"

Samael raised an eyebrow that spoke volumes for his displeasure. "With Parkinson I presume?" he questioned darkly, and Draco's grin brightened considerably.

"Of course!" he enthused, and spotted the Slytherin girl dancing the waltz with Zabini, looking quite content within the Italian boy's arms. Smile dimming slightly, Draco faced Samael with a pout. "She's dancing with Zabini," he stated melancholically, and Draco almost missed the relieved breath Samael released.

"That is good, Draco," Samael informed quietly, "That would have been your fifth dance with her. People would assume you were courting her."

Draco pouted further and leaned upon Samael. "Not courting Pansy!" he stated with a disgusted curl of his lips. "Never court _Pansy_!"

"That is good to know, Draco," Samael murmured softly.

Draco pierced Samael with his eyes. "Why is it?" he asked intently, "Why's it good I'm not courting Pansy?"

Samael's face spoke of neutrality, yet his body language revealed his fear as he posed ready to flee. "I think it is time for the sobriety potion, Draco," Samael stated, ignoring the blonde's question.

"Want to dance," Draco repeated, struggling away from Samael. "Not fair."

"You have no-one to dance with," Samael pointed out evenly, losing hope for Draco's compliance.

Draco prodded Samael's chest thoughtfully, gazing up at his through his lashes. "Dance with you," he suggested, and Samael's throat constricted at the sight Draco made. Blonde hair a mess, eyes dark with want.

Gently, Samael removed Draco's hands from his chest and cradled them for a moment. "You are aware I cannot dance, Dragon," he stated softly, "Plus, I must aid Rabastan with our plans for tonight."

Instantly, Draco's face switched from open to hostile. Taking a step away from Samael, a disdainful sneer marred his pale features. "Go on then," he slurred angrily, champagne flute poised as a dutiful weapon. "Go play with Uncle Rabastan!" he hissed venomously. "Course you don't want to stay with me."

"Draco," Samael's voice was soft, confused, pleading. "You know that is not true." At Draco's disbelieving scoff, Samael sighed in exasperation. "My brother has plans that must be fulfilled before the new year, and they must be performed tonight." At Draco's continued silence, Samael turned to leave. "What does it matter? You are drunk and will most probably not remember this conversation tomorrow. Just do not make a fool of yourself."

A satisfied smirk curled Draco's lips once he was sure Samael was not in the vicinity. Sashaying towards the table, he perused the selection and took a delicate hors d'oeuvre, before taking a sip from his glass. Sparkling apple juice burst across his tongue, and his smirk stretched wider.

Malfoy rule number thirteen – never drink alcohol in a public setting.

"Well," Draco murmured quietly to himself, as he took a seat. "At least I know he is jealous if I ever pursue a romantic relationship with anyone else." He searched for the familiar face and found him whispering with his uncle. "What havoc are you planning tonight, Samael?" he wondered aloud, before leaning back, avidly awaiting the chaos Samael would evoke.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Here is June's update (it's a bit late I know).

Hopefully, you'll enjoy Draco's scheming ways!


	31. Remaining Beautiful

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The character and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies, e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Remaining Beautiful<strong>

_But if you close your eyes and listen close, you can hear that chapter close._

_And it's all rebound in better clothes, and you like the way this story goes._

'_Cause the sun still burns the shadows out, and there's nothing to complain about now._

_Yeah I don't need a soul, no I don't need a soul to hold._

_Without you I'm still whole, you and life remain beautiful._

_I Don't Need a Soul – Relient K_

* * *

><p>Rabastan watched his friend approach with dancing eyes, and raised the champagne flute to his lips once more. Severus offered a curt nod as a greeting, whilst Rabastan lowered the glass to show his welcoming smile. "How are you enjoying the night's festivities, Sev?" he enquired, amusement dripping from every word.<p>

Severus rolled his eyes, and snatched the glass of red wine from Rabastan's offering hand. "It is insufferable, as you very well know," he chastised and took a long, grateful sip from his wine. "Everywhere I turn there are hormonal children wishing to undress one another!"

Rabastan raised an eyebrow, and a slow smirk stretched his fade. "Aw, is poor Sevvie feeling jealous?" he cooed, stroking a teasing finger down the younger man's cheek. Severus slapped the man's hand away with a scowl. "Does Sevvie want to be undressing his little werewolf right now?"

"Not that it is any of your business but, as a matter of fact, I do indeed," Severus agreed readily, and ignored Rabastan's delighted chuckle.

"Oh look, there's my little nephew! But he doesn't look happy," Rabastan commented quietly, and his hazel eyes narrowed upon Samael who did indeed look quite irritated. Severus followed Samael's gaze and a small smirk graced his face.

"Oh, you cunning Snake," Severus declared, and Rabastan stared curiously at him. "Draco is making Samael jealous," he explained quietly. "Draco must have wanted some acknowledgement of Samael's feelings, and what better way to know you have an admirer is jealousy?"

Surprisingly, Rabastan's face flooded with anger and he stiffened in indignation. "That...that _boy _is teasing my nephew! And you!" Rabastan pointed an accusing finger at Severus, "Are allowing it to happen?!"

Severus looked affronted, and scowled furiously at his friend. "Of course not," Severus murmured irritated, "Draco would never hurt Samael. They have both been pining for each other for years, Draco has been anonymously courting Samael for over a year now, and is merely wanting to see if his feelings are mutual." Sighing, he placed his glass upon the table. "As much bravado as Draco exudes, matters of the heart are terrifying for him."

Rabastan looked stunned, and turned wide hazel eyes upon Severus. "Did you just say Draco is courting Samael?"

"Did Bellatrix not tell you?" Severus questioned in surprise, onyx eyes glittering as Draco led Parkinson for another waltz whilst Samael's eyes burned in fury.

Rabastan snorted lightly, "Severus," he stated chidingly, "If Bellatrix knew Samael was being courted, she would hardly be able to contain herself." He glanced shrewdly at this nephew. "Samael must not have told her."

Severus' gaze joined Rabastan's as they stared at the Lestrange heir, and he bit his cheek thoughtfully. "I am unaware of how Bellatrix would react to discovering Samael was being courted. Samael is her most treasured being in the entire world, and to discover he was maturing to such an extent…" Severus trailed off, and furrowed his eyebrows.

Rabastan scoffed; burying a hand in his hair, he tugged lightly at one of his curls. "Bellatrix would be thrilled!" he countered, "She and Narcissa have spent the past three years planning Draco's and Samael's marriage, hoping that one of them would buck up their courage and ask the other to date. I should have expected someone as dedicated to tradition as Draco to use courtship. Anonymously though," Rabastan frowned at the blonde teenager, "Surely he knows Samael would accept him immediately if he asked?"

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "No. All tonight proved is that Samael wouldn't immediately curse Draco should Draco admit his feelings," he amended, "As I previously stated, Draco is a coward when it comes to his heart."

"One of them will have to admit their feelings to the other eventually," Rabastan stated, worry staining his voice.

Severus nodded soberly, yet a small smile stretched his features. "Undoubtedly. However, it will come sooner than I previously thought. Tonight's actions show that at the very least. Draco has a plan by the looks of things, and he shall reveal his intentions in mean time."

"What?" Rabastan stared aghast at his friend, champagne sloshing from his glass at the intensity of his movement. "Are you suggesting we leave them to it? Nothing will ever happen at that rate!" he declared passionately.

Severus chuckled lightly and merely pointed towards the crowd. Rabastan followed the finger, and gaped at the sight before him as Draco pressed a kiss to Samael's jaw. Blindly, he fumbled for a second glass of champagne, whilst Severus' chuckling grew louder.

"I take back what I said," Rabastan uttered faintly, "That boy knows exactly what he is doing. I refuse to get involved!"

"He is finally showing his cunning," Severus murmured softly, "He does not show it much since Samael usually dominates with Slytherin capabilities. However, one must not forget Draco's of the same breed as the most deadly Slytherins."

"They're practically made for each other," Rabastan muttered quietly, watching intently as, a distinctly flustered Samael made his way towards them. Severus made a sound of agreement, before Samael arrived.

"Severus. Uncle," Samael greeted neutrally, and if Rabastan hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have known how distressed his little nephew was. Samael turned towards the Potions Master, and smiled an apologetic smile. "Forgive my interruption. However, Rabastan and I have a prior engagement. So if you do not mind…" he left the sentence hanging, and Severus nodded calmly.

"Of course," he drawled silkily, "I shall leave the two of you to your _engagement_," he circled so as to stand between the two Lestranges. Leaning close, he whispered quietly. "Do not get yourselves caught."

Rabastan's affronted face was quite hilarious, and he glared at his old friend. "I would never get caught!" he hissed angrily, "I am far better than some subpar novice who has never undergone any mission of real importance!"

Severus' lips twitched, but he said nothing more before he melded into the crowd. Samael stared at his uncle with curious eyes. "Are you feeling well, Rabastan?" he asked quietly, eyes intense as they assessed the man. "You look quite pale and it looks as if you are shaking."

Rabastan's fingers curled tighter, and he shook his head. "No. No, I am quite well thank you," Rabastan replied, before hastily drinking the rest of his champagne in one gulp. "Let us commence with our task. Are your twins ready?" he enquired.

Samael glanced around the room, and spotted the two identical Weasleys dancing with Granger. At least, Samael _thought _they were dancing with Granger. It looked more like harassing, as Granger tore her hand away from whichever twin was holding it and spat furious words at the both of them. The two wizards merely shared a devious grin before caging the girl between their bodies, and whispered, what was most probably, pure filth into the poor girl's ear.

"It seems as if they have a task of their own to accomplish," he stated with an amused smirk, "And by the looks of their progress, I would say they are failing spectacularly," Samael snorted as Granger slapped one of the twins across the cheek and strode from their vicinity.

"They're insane," Rabastan muttered, as the twins hi-fived each other and watched the girl leave with predatory expressions. "All that effort for one girl? When she doesn't even reciprocate?"

Samael smirk grew wider as he stared at the witch from across the hall. It was like he told her three years ago, she could hide her true nature all she liked, but the only person she was deceiving was herself. She detested ineptitude and slackers, yet surrounded herself with them by allowing herself to be sorted into the Lions den.

She was under the impression that the Weasley twins were the epitome of Gryffindor qualities, yet little did she know, the twins possessed enough cunning and wit to be respected by the majority of the Snakes. Samael shook his head to himself. Granger would be unable to resist the twins once they displayed their true abilities and the extent of their plans. The poor girl would swoon over their brain-power.

Predictable.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, Samael focused himself at the task at hand (and most definitely did not stare at Draco when the blonde beamed at him). Glancing once more at the twins, Samael nodded and pulled upon his magic until a ball of blue magic glowed in his hands, emitting a gentle tune. With a light wave, the ball of musical light floated from his fingertips towards the identical wizards.

Gred elbowed Forge in the side and pointed at the approaching light. Forge, upon noticing Samael's signal, adopted an outraged expression before pushing Gred into the group of people behind them.

Immediately, sounds of shock sounded from the group and stared at Gred in surprise. Sprawled on the ground, one of the older Ravenclaws offered the red-head a hand. Seeing the attention, Gred accepted the help and glared at Forge. "What the hell are you playing at?" he thundered loudly.

Forge angrily flicked his fringe away from his face, and took a threatening step closer. "I told you we weren't doing that plan!" he hissed menacingly, "We were only going to put the insobriety potion in the drinks, not the alihosty draught or the fungiface potion! We said it was too dangerous!"

Gred looked astonished at the accusation, whilst the surrounding crowd narrowed their gazes at the twins. "No way, mate! I didn't do it, you must've done it!"

"Me?!" Forge questioned furiously, "_I_ didn't do it, so who did then?! Lee didn't, and now he's in the Medical wing getting treated by Madame Effing because his face looks like it was attacked by a bleedin' mushroom!"

Gasps erupted throughout the crowd, and the Ravenclaw who had earlier helped Gred, now punched said red-head in the face.

Instantly, Forge tackled the Ravenclaw to the ground. "Never touch Gred again!" he threatened, lifting the wizard by the lapels before throwing his head against the floor. "I'm the only one who gets to touch him!"

"Oi!" a burly Hufflepuff demanded, whilst yanking Forge away from the Ravenclaw. "Get off him, you tosser!"

Sounds of agreement came from the crowd, before Gred surged to his feet and head-butted the Hufflepuff in the nose. A blinding smile threatened Forge's face and he cast admiring eyes upon his twin. "Glasgow kiss, eh?" he commented appreciatively, "Good one, Gred!" They hi-fived each other, before turning to stare, wide-eyed, at the crowd of furious students.

"Take the left, Gred," Forge instructed enthusiastically. "I'll take the right." Identical grins stretched their faces, and they flew into the crowd with their fists raised, laughing maniacally as they did.

Rabastan watched the twins' work from a safe distance, and shared an amused glance with his nephew. "They're insane, Samael. I told you they were." Hazel eyes snapped towards the movement from the back of the hall. "And there comes Minerva, Severus _and _Filius. My, is the situation that dire?"

Samael merely rose an eyebrow, and pointed towards the fight. Where the twins had now gained allies in Diggory, Boot and Krum, whilst their adversaries had nearly doubled in number. Rabastan nodded to himself, "Yes, I see why their assistance may be needed."

Samael snorted sardonically, watching as McGonagall began the futile task of screaming at the students whilst Filius began casting _petrificus totalus _at every student he saw; efficiently picking them off one by one.

"Can you see him?" Rabastan questioned lowly. Emerald eyes scanned the room before they narrowed upon the dark figure, hunched in the corner. "Let's go then." Lowly incanting the disillusionment charm, the two Lestranges swiftly made their way towards their target.

The task was made easy as most party-goers were huddled around the fight, jeering and generally causing mischief.

"Igor," Rabastan greeted coolly. Laughing darkly as the wizard startled in surprise, dark eyes darting around to source the speaker. "It is been such a long time. Come, don't you recognise the voice of your old friend? One of the few you _did not _sell to the Ministry?"

"Now is _not _the time, uncle," Samael whispered primly. Rabastan's face spoke of his dislike of Samael's reminder, yet he acquiesced all the same.

Upon seeing the acceptance in Rabastan's face, Samael glanced to watch for prying eyes before raising his wand and silently casted his curse. Disinterested eyes watched as the man disappeared before their eyes, and was replaced with a shivering black rat. Before the wizard-turned-rat could escape, Samael scooped the animal up and thrust him in Rabastan's direction.

"I am sure Marvolo will be delighted with his gift," Samael spoke softly, as Rabastan grabbed Igor with rough hands and shoved him into his pocket. "However we must hasten if we wish to complete the second half of this plan."

"Of course," Rabastan spoke smoothly, with an unreadable expression. "I am not incompetent, no matter what your mother believes."

Samael inclined his head graciously, and stepped aside to allow Rabastan to take the lead. "I did not mean to imply you were, uncle," he replied easily; contritely. Rabastan nodded and gracefully weaved through the crowd, expertly avoiding contact with anyone until they reached the jewelled casket resting upon the dais.

Humming to himself, Rabastan circled the casket whilst trailing his wand across the intricate filigree and inside the crevices. Samael silently cast an _obscuro _charm, so that none would notice their movements and raised an eyebrow at his uncle. "Well?"

Rabastan turned to his nephew. "A simple _revelaro _will work. The goblet was not initially placed inside the casket. The casket is new, the magic fresh. No more than a year old I would say. The goblet though…" Rabastan trailed away and glanced over at the casket with poorly concealed awe. "The goblet has immense power, the magic is old and powerful." Rabastan glanced at Samael curiously. "Do you have any idea what your brother wants with it?"

Samael shook his head amusedly, "I am not Marvolo's carer, uncle," he answered simply, "I do not question his actions; he will tell me when he wishes. I see no need to press him unless I feel it is vital."

Accepting Samael's answer with a pout, Rabastan whispered '_revelaro_', watching with wide eyes as the jewelled casket melted before their eyes; revealing the heavy-wooden goblet within. Magic thrummed from the goblet, and Rabastan's shaking hands gently lifted it from its confines. "To think that such a beautiful object was used as an _adjudicator_." Rabastan sneered, cradling the goblet protectively to his chest.

"Rabastan," Samael stated warningly, whilst pulling two phials from his robes. Brown, sludge-like liquid bubbled inside the glass. Samael eyed it with distaste and held the second phial to his uncle. Rabastan pulled a hair from his head and placed it inside Samael's phial, whilst he placed a long, black hair inside his own.

"Down it all in one go," Rabastan suggested darkly, with a scrunched up face. "It will be easier that way." Tentatively, the wizard lifted the phial to his lips and took a hesitant sniff. Gagging in revulsion, he resolved himself and poured the sickly substance down his throat.

Mimicking his uncle's actions, Samael drank the polyjuice swiftly. Wincing from the taste, Samael clenched his hands tightly until he felt the sludge move down his gullet. Almost immediately, he felt his skin bubbling from within, his limbs stretch and his hair grow, whilst he watched his uncle disappear before his eyes and Karkaroff appear in his place.

"Is that what I really look like?" Rabastan spoke in Karkaroff's voice, whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. "I never knew my nose could look so regal. I'm quite dapper."

Samael rolled his eyes at Rabastan's narcissistic ways, and held his hand out expectantly. Dutifully, Rabastan placed his second wand, the wand he used in public, to Samael and withdrew Karkaroff's from his robes. Shrinking his cane, Samael pocketed it alongside the two empty phials.

"Are you ready?" Rabastan questioned, and Samael answered in affirmative. Nodding to himself, Rabastan cancelled their disillusionment spells and immediately sprinted away from Samael, pushing his way through the crowd.

Samael waited a few seconds before racing after his uncle. There! Karkaroff's distinct figure could be seen at the doors to the entrance hall. Blood pumped swiftly through his veins. His breaths came faster. Roughly, he knocked Dumbledore off his feet and rasped out a breathless shout of: "Karkaroff's stolen the goblet!"

Samael withheld the smirk that wanted to spread across his face as Dumbledore spluttered comically, and instead focused upon his hunt. Rabastan had escaped into the freezing air of the grounds, yet Samael continued on regardless. Bellowing a _stupefy _which was just off the mark, Rabastan responded with an annoyed look and a red curse which Samael knew would have removed his fingers had he not dodged it in time. They did have to keep the act up after all.

Shouts from behind him informed Samael that his words had spurred the other professors into action, and they had joined him on his pursuit for Karkaroff. However, Rabastan was a good ten metres ahead of them, and very much outside the anti-apparation wards.

Smugly, Rabastan turned around and offered Samael and the other professors a mocking salute, before turning and apparating away. Abruptly, Samael stopped and placed his hands upon his knees; panting loudly and waiting for the others to catch up to him.

"Rabastan? What happened?" Severus questioned quietly. Looking completely composed for a man who had just sprinted from the great hall.

Wild hazel eyes locked upon onyx counterparts and he threw his wand upon the ground in frustration. "I knew you couldn't trust that bastard!" he snarled; hands flying into his wavy coiffure. "Unlike us, he actually _was_ a Death Eater! I never trusted the bastard, and he was acting suspiciously the entire evening. Remaining in the shadows and avoiding everyone. I lost sight of him with all the commotion, and the next I saw he had the goblet in his hands. I threw a stunner at him but he ran. I went after him, but…"

Glancing up, Samael widened his eyes at the sight of Dumbledore and McGonagall staring at him; listening raptly at his words. "I tried my best," he offered lamely, and plonked himself upon the ground; not caring about the way the freezing snow seeped through his robes.

Severus sighed, and crouched beside the man. "Do not punish yourself for mistakes that you are not at fault for," Severus drawled in an unimpressed tone. "You are not to blame for the inferior protective wards an ancient, magical artefact was behind." At this, Severus sent Dumbledore a quelling glare.

Samael's head remain hung low, and Severus sighed once again, this time it spoke of his irritation though. "Rabastan. Get your arse off the ground or I _will _subject you to one of my stinging hexes. Is that understood?" he asked in clipped tones.

Rabastan's shocked hazel eyes narrowed upon Severus. "You would not dare," he replied, less confidently than he perhaps should have.

Severus raised a mocking eyebrow. "Are you prepared to test me?" Samael stared at Severus' raised wand, before swiftly getting to his feet. "Thought so," Severus murmured smugly, and Samael bumped the man's shoulder roughly.

Severus glared at the other wizard, but before Severus could act upon whatever anger he was feeling, a light cough sounded. Both dark-haired wizards turned to stare at Dumbledore and McGonagall. Simultaneously, they rose an eyebrow. "Yes?" Samael asked primly.

Dumbledore's face was grave. "I thank you for your actions tonight, Mr Lestrange. I understand that you tried the best you could. The blame lies not at your door, but mine." Samael nodded stiffly, and flinched as the older wizard stepped closer. Twinkling, blue eyes gazed into Samael's. "Thank you, Rabastan."

Patting Samael lightly upon the shoulder, Dumbledore turned and walked towards the castle; McGonagall following after him. Samael shuddered and wiped uselessly at the shoulder Dumbledore touched with his disgusting hand.

A cold hand rested upon Samael's other shoulder, and Samael glanced at Severus' face. "Go to bed, Samael." Samael opened his mouth to protest, yet Severus continued. "Your hair is getting darker by the second, Samael. Do not lie to me. Tonight has been a trying evening. So, go to bed."

Samael adopted a surly expression, because now that Severus mentioned it, he could feel the effects of the polyjuice running thin. "Have you enjoyed the evening, Severus?" he asked, and yes that was Samael's voice coming from Rabastan's body.

"It has been quite informative," Severus replied, leading the younger wizard towards the school. "Draco looked like he enjoyed himself." At the reminder of his blonde companion, Samael felt a pool of ice-cold dread settle itself in his stomach.

Remaining impassive, he glanced at the older wizard. "Oh? Did he dance with Parkinson again?" he enquired neutrally, not one ounce of bitterness in his voice. Not a single ounce.

Severus snorted quietly to himself, causing Samael to narrow his eyes in frustration. "Or course he didn't," Severus answered condescendingly, and Samael felt betrayed at the relief that flooded his insides. "Draco has no intentions of courting the girl."

Severus casually side-stepped a rabbit-hole. Samael, however, wasn't as fortunate. Sudden pain flared in his ankle, and Samael hissed out a curse before stumbling into Severus. Long arms gripped Samael's arm tightly, holding him firmly in place. Fumbling inside his robes, Samael withdrew his cane and returned it to normal size. Samael waved Severus' concern away. "You were saying?" he stated pointedly.

Severus glared at Samael, as he obviously dismissed his pain with little care, but allowed it anyway. "Once you interrupted mine and Rabastan's conversation, Draco spent the rest of the evening watching you until you disillusioned yourself."

Hope fluttered in his stomach.

Samael would never act upon it, instead he addressed the Potions Master.

"Draco is drunk," he declared with indifference. Rubbing his hands to instil some life into them as they entered the cloying warmth of the entrance hall. "I would not pay much heed to whatever he did tonight."

Severus chuckled darkly. "If you say so, Samael," Severus murmured, in a tone making it extremely obvious that Samael was incorrect.

But if Draco was not drunk, then why did he pretend it? Unless he wanted to mask his true intentions with the excuse of not being in control of his faculties. And if that was the case, then did Draco actually want to dance with Samael? And that meant that those kisses were from a sober Draco.

What if Draco returned his feelings?

Angrily, Samael shook his head. After all, what good do what ifs do? A dull ache spread across his head, and Samael rubbed it painfully. These thoughts were useless. His reactions to them were all too revealing, however.

"Go to bed, Samael," Severus repeated gently, and Samael was surprised to see the entrance to the Slytherin common room before him. Stiffly, he turned to glance at Severus; afraid to see what he would see in the elder wizard's face. After all, Severus had surely interpreted Samael's thoughts correctly, because Samael was practically shouting them to the world.

Understanding was all Samael saw, and he released a shaky breath. For if Samael had saw pity in those onyx orbs, Samael thought he may have lost his mind in rage. Nodding in acceptance, Samael whispered the password to the common room.

"Thank you, Severus," he murmured quietly before entering the dimly-lit common room. Few of the Snakes were within it, as most of the upper-years were most likely still at the ball and the younger-years had gone to bed. Those who were there offered respectful nods, and tired smiles.

Samael returned them with more composure than he felt and ascended the stairs to his dormitory. Warily, he opened the door. The only habitant was Theodore Nott snoring lightly from his closed curtains.

Draco was thankfully absent.

That made his mind much easier to bear with as he collapsed limply onto his bed. His duvet offered a welcoming embrace, and he released a grateful sigh, before curling into the foetal position. Lazily, he spelled his curtains closed with a flick of the wrist.

'_How pathetic I am,' _Samael thought bitterly, _'I have been telling Granger that she has been deceiving herself when I have doing the exact same thing.'_

Samael thought it was about time he admitted to himself that he was in love with Draco.

Cursing softly, Samael closed his tired eyes. Admitting it hadn't made his thoughts any easier, and it certainly hadn't made them simpler. Yet, at least he was being honest with himself now. Yes, he was in love with Draco but that didn't mean he couldn't continue his life without having a romantic relationship with him.

A sense of calm detachment overcame Samael, and he let himself drift into sleep with a small smile stretched across his face.

* * *

><p>Silver eyes regarded the raven-haired Slytherin with interest. Samael had an almost serene-air around him, as if some sudden realisation had happened upon the Lestrange and allowed him some insight no other knew.<p>

And that made Samael so much…_more _to Draco. A smug smirk crossed the blonde's face as he remembered the night before. Samael was jealous of Pansy and, therefore, it would be safe to assume Samael held romantic interests towards him.

Perhaps it was time to leave a clue within his courting gifts?

Before he could muse upon this possibility further, a Hogwarts barn owl swept through the window and landed clumsily upon the table. Splattering Draco's porridge upon other food and the Slyhterins unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. Samael, however, had cast some variation of the shield charm to protect Draco and himself from the mess.

Gingerly, Samael retrieved the letter from the owl and made short work of the seal with those long, pale fingers that had plagued Draco's dreams for the past two years. So focused upon those fingers, Draco missed the way Samael's face contorted in anger. Draco didn't miss the way those fingers scrunched the letter in his hands though, or how they burned it to ashes with nary a twitch.

"Samael?" he asked tentatively, and those _'beautiful' _emerald eyes burned into his. "What did the letter say?" Samael's right eye twitched, and his jaw clenched as he obviously went over the words in his head again.

The majority of the Slytherins were discreetly watching the Lestrange heir from behind their copies of the Prophet or over the top of their breakfast plates. Samael knew, yet did not fully comprehend the extent of his power within the Snake House. He held their attention and respect, but also had their power and influence in return for the kindness and patience he had shown them.

"It was that same fool from last year, I am sure of it," Samael stated through gritted teeth, and Draco felt trepidation race through him. It took a lot to anger Samael to this level, and whatever that letter said could not have been good. "It was full of obscene filth and profanity. The one line which will forever be ingrained in my mind is '_you looked so sexy last night; I was so hard and weeping that I had to leave halfway through to deal with myself.'"_

Draco didn't notice that he had bent his spoon out of sheer anger, nor the way he was scowling furiously at the whorls in the wooden table. "That filthy, barbaric _troll_!" he spat emphatically, "I wish I could wring his bare neck between my hands! To say such untoward and vile things…Circe, I could murder that mangy cur!"

Draco turned his gaze upon Samael, expecting to see Samael's disgusted expression again. Yet, Samael seemed oddly pleased. Blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he looked to Pansy for some guidance.

The witch merely rolled her eyes and tittered at the wizard, whilst Blaise offered an exasperated look. Draco glanced at the enchanted ceiling in confusion.

What was it he was missing?

* * *

><p>Marvolo called a full Death Eater meeting on the 2nd April 1995.<p>

To say the Death Eaters were surprised would be an understatement, and Marvolo fought the overwhelming urge to throttle them all out of sheer exasperation and embarrassment. To think, these were the wizards and witches his campaign rested upon all those years ago.

A heavy hood shrouded his features, yet his magical aura was unmistakable and those that were not within his inner-circle were prostrated upon their knees. Their heads were bowed low in reverence and fear.

Raising his hand silently, his followers automatically followed the movement and focused upon his face. "My loyal Death Eaters," he greeted softly, power emanating from each word. Standing gracefully from his seat, he slowly paced towards the first row of followers. "You served me well during my first reign. Yet, why was it only my inner-circle who sought me out after my fall?" he questioned smoothly; dangerously.

Several Death Eaters shifted nervously, and hunched even further within themselves. "Did you all think I could be bested by a mere child? Had I not proved my prowess with a wand, and dedication to our cause to know that was not the case? You believed I could be stopped by _death_?"

Heads lowered further with shame as Marvolo's oppressing magic rolled throughout the room, forcing the Death Eaters to submit. "Tell me, why was it you were so swift to abandon our cause and fade into the normality of Dumbledore's regime? Were none of you truly loyal to the Old Ways?"

Mumbles of shock and disagreement reverberated throughout the room, "In fact, some of you were willing to sacrifice your brothers for your own freedom. If you were true followers of our cause, you would have accepted the Kiss with pride. You would have been revered as heroes. Yet, that is not the reality we face. Is it, _Macnair_?" Marvolo hissed, ripping the mask from the man's face.

Denials fell from the wizard's lips, fear written across his face and dripping from every word. Marvolo's face hardened in outrage, and he levelled his wand upon the wizard. "Crucio," he intoned softly, "Did you think Lord Voledmort would not know of your betrayal?" he questioned softly, "I am not a cruel master, am I?" he asked the room, and a chorus of 'no, my lord' sounded in response.

Marvolo smiled predatorily, "I am a merciful lord," Marvolo ended the spell, and crouched low to survey the quivering mess that Macnair made. Gently, he trailed his fingers across Macnair's whimpering face. "Which is why your death will be so swift. _Avada Kedavra_."

The flash of sickly-green shot from Marvolo's wand, and ended Macnair's life within seconds. Rising to his full height, Marvolo towered over the Death Eater's and held his arms wide. "Lord Voldemort does not tolerate betrayal easily," he stated with a warm smile, "Know this and be content."

"Now, many of you have noticed or even conversed with a man named Marvolo Slytherin, and the majority of you have correctly assumed his true identity." Pale fingers grasped the hood of his cloak, and lowered it; revealing his true face to his followers. "I am Lord Slytherin. I shall conquer the wizarding world through the political arena. My power shall know no boundaries. The old ways shall finally reclaim their rightful place at the forefront of our teachings. No longer shall we be supressed and downtrodden!"

A roar of approval met his declaration. Fists and wands swayed in the air. Resounding happiness and confidence echoing through the room. Marvolo smiled down at his followers, and raised a hand to silence them.

"Lord Voldemort may be dead to the majority of the wizarding world. However, for you, my devoted followers, I am thriving in the shadows!" He walked amongst his Death Eaters, gracing them all with a soft touch upon their heads. "My mark lies upon your arm as testament of your faith to me. And lest you not forget, I will not hesitate to punish those who have failed me." His chilling eyes bore into every single pair of eyes, and immense satisfaction travelled down his spine at their downcast gaze.

"One of your comrades, however has never failed in any task I have set him. In December, Rabastan Lestrange retrieved the goblet of fire from underneath Dumbledore's watchful gaze!" Several snickers erupted from the crowd, and Marvolo quelled them with another raised hand. "The Goblet of Fire has many properties. Amongst many, its most useful is to enhance the power of any other magical object."

Silence met his words, and Marvolo tried not to succumb to his homicidal temptations at the lack of reaction. Sighing softly, he cast an irritated glance around the room. "Somehow I sense you do not appreciate the true power of this object. Oh, how pitiful your minds must be."

Marvolo swept down amongst his Death Eaters, his hand stroking the heads of any wizard in the way. "Rosier," he murmured silkily; chuckling lightly as the man froze under his fingertips. "I sense you have a question."

Frightfully, the man raised his head to stare at his lord. "My lord, does this mean you are betrothed to Regulus Black?"

Marvolo chuckled further as most Death Eaters perked up from their positions; eager to hear their lord's answer. It was typical that his followers focused upon the gossip rather than the magnificent magical artefact before them. "You are correct, Rosier," Marvolo held a graceful hand towards one of the knelt Death Eaters.

Said Death Eater accepted it and rose to his feet in one fluid motion, and Marvolo carefully peeled the mask from his face to reveal Regulus. Placing a hand upon Regulus' cheek, Marvolo traced the quivering lips with a soft smile. "Regulus is my betrothed. Harm him in any way, and you shall face pain beyond your wildest imagination."

Outraged murmurs broke out from a small quarter of the crowd. This time, Marvolo did succumb to his urges. Pointing his wand upon Rosier, a cruel snarl marred his face. "_Crucio_!" he hissed venomously. The other wizard fell to the ground; releasing a shrill cry of agonising pain.

Marvolo's lips curled into a satisfied smile as the screams filled the air, and he twirled his wand around his fingers. Every pair of eyes were upon him, ardently watching his movements as he painted an unsettling picture of terrifying madness. "Let Rosier be testament to how far I tolerate disobedience."

As one, the Death Eaters intoned lowly. "Yes, My Lord."

Smiling benignly upon his followers, Marvolo waved a limp hand; causing the doors to fly open with a startling bang. Knelt limply in the doorway was a pale, shivering figure, and with a few long steps, Marvolo grabbed the man by the lapels and dragged him into the room.

"Do you all see this piece of filth?" he queried loudly; thrusting his wand into the man's jugular. "His name is Igor Karkaroff," murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, as all eyes turned upon the other wizard. Marvolo smirked at the hatred emanating from his Death Eaters, it truly was a delicious thing to behold. "And because I am a generous Lord, I would not wish to monopolise all our vengeance. So please," Marvolo stepped aside, and waved his arm theatrically at Karkaroff, "Seek your retribution."

Hungry eyes were fixed intently upon the shivering wizard, and the Death Eaters began to slowly stalk forwards. Marvolo on the other hand, held his hand out for Regulus to hold before pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. Smiling softly, they departed the room as malicious laughter and Karkaroff's screams echoed throughout the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm sorry for the late chapter (again)! Chapter 32 should be up in a week (feel free to pester me with messages if it isn't). The past two months have been crazy. I was accepted into my first choice uni (yay!), but I've been busy with working full-time until uni started. Hectic, hectic, hectic.

I love you all! 3


	32. Waiting for an Angel

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The character and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies, e.g. Bloomsbury.

* * *

><p><strong>Waiting for an Angel<strong>

_And night after night, I couldn't sleep._

_But that was before you lay beside me._

_When all of my demons were dancing with me._

_I'm glad you came down because I was in too deep._

_Heaven Sent – Hinder_

* * *

><p><em>07.57<em>

The large, wispy numbers floated above him, causing Samael to swear softly under his breath and quicken his pace. He had promised to meet Severus before riding the train back to King's Cross, but had been delayed when Warrington wanted to say goodbye.

Samael was bewildered at the emotions on the older-Wizard's face when he cornered him in the empty common-room. Whilst it was true that Warrington had proven himself to be a reliable and trustworthy informant, there was nothing more to their relationship. It was nothing like his relationship with Draco (though no other could ever compare to the blonde), and even Samael's relationship with Zabini was more personal than his with Cadmus Warrington.

Yet, Samael was never one to shun such an important political ally, so thought it wise for Warrington to leave with Samael held in the highest regards. So, Samael allowed it when Warrington placed a hand upon his shoulder, and even acquiesced when the elder-wizard pulled him into an awkward hug. However, when the seventh-year attempted to press his lips against Samael's, the Lestrange promptly cursed him with a powerful stinging hex.

How dare Warrington even try to lick his boots, let alone kiss him without his permission? With a few curt words, Samael strode from the room with all the grace he possessed. Samael would not allow the disgusting wizard to ruin his day. Yet, the thought of anyone touching him without his permission caused an awful sensation to creep along his skin and righteous anger to fill his bones.

'_No-one will ever touch me again. Not unless they value their life anyhow.'_

Glancing at the tempus charm, _7.43_, Samael nodded to himself. He had plenty of time to reach Severus' quarters before he needed to arrive in Hogsmeade. Swiftly, he lengthened his strides until the familiar stretch of corridor met his eyes. After three brisk knocks upon the door, it was swung open to reveal Severus' soft smile which quickly morphed into concern.

"Samael," he greeted quietly, before stepping aside to usher him into his quarters. Placing a gentle hand upon Samael's thin shoulder, Severus worried eyes bore into him. "What has happened?"

Logically, Samael knew Severus was the person who understood him the greatest. Yet, admitting his feelings was never one of Samael's trademark abilities. Conversely, Samael was never one to allow his fear to rule him. So he forced his eyes to meet Severus', and roughly bit back the bile in his throat. "It is nothing too dire, Severus," Samael assured the older wizard with a strained smile. "Warrington was overcome with emotion, and thought we had an… _amorous _relationship."

The hand on Samael's shoulder tightened imperceptibly, and an outrage scowl fell across Severus's lips. Strangely, the reaction pleased Samael, and he placed a comforting hand upon Severus'. Intense, onyx, orbs fixed themselves upon Samael. "Did he do _anything_ untoward towards you?" he questioned in a highly controlled voice.

"He attempted it," Samael answered truthfully, whilst reaching forward to take the cup of tea an Elf had brought. "However, he felt the tip of my wand as a result."

Severus was hardly reassured, and his face spoke doom to any who was unfortunate to cross him. Samael, unsurprisingly, found it amusing, and took a calm sip of his tea. Darjeeling. Samael furrowed his brows in surprise. _'Surprisingly tasty,' _he thought, before taking another sip.

"That presumptuous worm!" Severus seethed, with his fists gripped tight as he angrily paced the floor. Samael settled himself further in the recliner, all his unease and ill-placed shame dissipating at the amusing sight before him. Severus' rant crumbled into incomprehensible grumbles, and Samael calmly took another sip from his tea.

Samael glanced up from his cup. His emerald eyes shone brightly. "Severus?" he enquired lightly, and the dour man paused in his step. "Please calm down and drink this charming tea the elf brought along."

Severus' mouth twisted in an irritated scowl, yet he sat in the chair opposite Samael and reached for the other teacup. "I hope the curse was harmful," he spat, before taking a sip.

Samael smirked widely. "Not permanently so, Severus," he answered calmly, "I did not see the point of being arrested for defending myself."

"I am sure Marvolo would not mind taking it upon himself to deal with him," Severus suggested in a light tone, belying the seething anger within his eyes.

Instantly, Samael's face froze into an icy mask. "You shall not tell Marvolo of this," Samael instructed sternly, "He is reaffirming his political stability, and I will not sacrifice that over this petty incident."

Severus stared incredulously at the younger wizard, and shook his head lightly. "I hardly doubt Marvolo would be caught. However," sighing softly, Severus stroked the handle of the cup thoughtfully. "I will not inform him of this. I understand that you do not want others to know."

Samael nodded tightly, and placed the dainty china cup upon the table before relaxing into the chair. "Was there something you wished to discuss, Severus?" Samael questioned, tapping his cane lightly against the ground.

"Andras' fourteenth birthday," Severus offered, his expression dark and unreadable. "I know he will want Missus Weasley, Lovegood and Granger, you and Draco of course, and perhaps even Messrs Weasley as well."

Samael rose his eyebrow in enquiry, presenting an amused yet confused expression. "Yes, Severus. Will that be a problem?

Severus' face adopted a pained expression, and he placed the cup upon his table. "I believe Andras may have romantic intentions towards Miss Weasley," Severus's voice matched his expression, as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly.

Samael couldn't help but chuckle at the Potion Master's reaction, earning him an annoyed glare in response. "Sorry, Severus," Samael murmured not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "However, your reaction is just so ridiculous. You sound so surprised about it all."

"I am not a complete dunderhead, Samael," Severus gritted out between clenched teeth, "I just didn't expect for it to culminate so quickly."

Both Samael's eyebrows rose in response. "Andras asked her to date him?" he questioned, surprised.

Severus shook his head with an eye-roll. "Of course he didn't. It was Miss Weasley who asked Andras."

A soft chuckle escaped Samael, and he reached for his tea once again. "I should have expected that. Ginevra is too spunky and independent to follow tradition."

Severus made a grunt of agreement. "Yes well, I do not feel Andras is ready for an _adult _relationship."

Samael choked upon his tea, and stared wide-eyed at Severus. "I highly doubt they will begin copulating in front of your nose!" he gasped out, breathless from laughter. "Andras respects you and Remus too much to do such a thing. _Plus_, I do not believe they will be performing such acts until they are much older."

Severus rose a disbelieving eyebrow. "Samael, I have been teaching here for well over fifteen years. I have seen numerous fourteen year olds attempting to defile one another in the bushes to hold any belief of teenagers having a sense of propriety."

An indignant laugh erupted from Samael's mouth, and he idly flicked his hand to refill his teacup. "Severus," Samael stated calmly, "Please do not label me so arbitrarily alongside my peers."

Severus cast a droll look upon the young wizard, and closed his eyes briefly with a suffering sigh. "Do not pretend that you are above such pleasures, Samael. I am certain that once you and Draco finally admit your feelings to one another, then you will hardly be able to tear yourselves apart."

Emerald eyes narrowed, and pale fingers clenched the china so tightly they shook. Controlling his anger at Severus' words _'or was it his own hope?' _ Samael lowered his cup, before biting out a chilly: "I freely admit that my feelings towards Draco are romantic and that they are futile. However, please do not mock them so lightly."

Severus was not amused in the slightest.

"Do not be so imbecilic, Samael," Severus replied, quickly and sharply. "Draco is in love with you, just as you are in love with him. Watching you dance around each other has been painful to watch and I have just about had enough."

Samael gaped at Severus in shock. The usually dour man was glaring his fiercest glare, and his words were layered in passion and annoyance. "I swore that I would not get involved in your love-life, but I honestly expected you two to have worked things out by now. After Yule, I thought that Draco was handling the situation well and you would be holding hands before May. However, as it stands we are now in June and nothing has happened!"

Severus had begun pacing again, and he swung his clenched hands angrily. "Draco is enamoured with you and even kissed you at Yule! He has clearly displayed his affections before you, and you are acting oblivious to it all! I understand that you don't want to be rejected, but believe me it's not going to happen."

Severus stopped his pacing, and crouched beside the smaller wizard. Gently, he prised the cup from Samael's fingers, and placed it upon the table before taking hold of Samael's hands. Severus stared ardently into Samael's eyes. "I was in your position sixteen years ago. I didn't dare believe that the person I loved most in the world would love me in return even when it was so glaringly obvious to others around us. I know you will wish to hear it from Draco's mouth, but I swear to you that you will not be disappointed."

Samael shuffled uncomfortably under Severus' intense gaze, but Severus merely squeezed Samael's hand tightly. "You trust me, don't you?" Severus questioned intently, and Samael searched for something with Severus' face, before nodding. Severus smiled a gentle smile. "Then believe me. Go to Draco, admit your feelings, and be happy."

Slowly, Samael's emerald eyes lit up in delight, and he radiated pure happiness. Yet, he still retained an aura of nervous energy about him. Seeing this, Severus squeezed his hand once more. "Trust me."

Samael supposed that he should.

* * *

><p>Sirius rushed down the stairs as if a hippogriff were chasing him, and slid to a stop in the kitchen. Wide-eyed, Sirius stared aghast at the sight before him. Frantically, he pulled his wand from his robes and whispered sharp words hastily under his breath.<p>

Immediately, pans rose from the sink and began to scrub themselves, whilst a damp cloth wiped itself across the grimy surfaces. With a small grimace, Sirius pulled his hand through his tangled locks before realisation dawned upon his face. "Shit," he swore lightly, before disapparating away from Grimauld.

The stark contrast between the peaceful quiet of home to the bustling station was a shock to Sirius, and he winced as a teenage girl shrilled loudly in his ear after spotting her friend. Pushing his way through the crowd, he trod the familiar path towards platform nine and three quarters and easily passed through the entrance.

As he appeared on the other side however, he was almost run down by a fuming witch who looked vaguely familiar and who was pushing a severely overloaded trolley. Immediately after her came the Weasley twins, worry and anger written clearly across their features. "Hermione, wait up!" one of them called, whilst the other sprinted ahead to cut her off.

The twin who ran ahead grasped her gently by the arm, and turned her towards him. The witch wasn't having any of it though, and tugged uselessly in his grip to free herself. The second twin wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "Ignore them, 'Mione," Sirius heard him urge, "If they don't see the smart, proud, beautiful woman you've become then they don't deserve you."

Sirius released a low, approving whistle at the sight. _'Those boys certainly know how to charm.'_

The other twin nodded heartily in agreement, and kissed her forehead. "You don't need them, 'Mione. You've got us, and Ginny, and Andras and Luna. Hell, even Samael and Draco will defend you."

Dolefully, she glanced upwards at the nearest twin, with a question obvious on her face. They chuckled softly, and one raised a thumb to wipe a tear from her eye. "Gred and I are spending the holidays with Charlie, and Ginny is staying at Snape's now that she's finally bagged her man." A wet-sounding giggle met his words, and the other twin had an approving grin on his face at making her laugh.

"What we're saying, 'Mione," the other twin continued, a look of genuine seriousness upon his face. "Is that you're welcome with us if you would like."

"And with us!" another voice sounded, and the three spun around to find Andras Snape and Ginny Weasley's determined face staring at them. Hermione blushed at the position she was in, and struggled to escape their hold. The twins weren't having any of it though, and merely tightened their grip with a roguish grin.

"You really don't have to," she protested limply, whilst glaring at the smirking twins. "I mean whatever would Professor Snape say? Or your other father? We haven't even asked them."

Andras waved her concerns away with his only free hand, as the other was held firmly with Ginny's. "They will not mind. Honestly, I believe father will be relieved. He's under the impression that Ginny and I will perform coitus if left alone."

"Andras!" Hermione screeched in outrage, her blush reddening her face even further.

The others laughed at her reaction, and Ginny tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Please come with us, Hermione," she pleaded innocently. "If only to put Professor Snape's worries aside. He will be delighted to learn we have a chaperone." The younger witch turned her best puppy-dog eyes upon her, and Hermione groaned in submission.

"Okay. But only if Professor Snape and your father agree!" she added hastily.

"They will," Andras declared with certainty. "Anyway I'm sure Narcii or Bella wouldn't mind looking after you." Andras added thoughtfully, mindless to the confused faces around him. _'Narcii and Bella accepting a Muggleborn? What a load of tosh, they've always…STOP!' _Sirius halted his train of thought abruptly. _'Have I learnt nothing from having Regulus back? Nothing is what it seems any longer.'_

"Sorry, who are they?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange are Draco and Samael's mothers. They adore their sons but they've always wanted to fuss over a girl."

"Oh, I, uh," Hermione faltered, an expression of uncertainty painted across her face.

Upon seeing this, Andras scoured the crowds until he spotted the same scene Sirius had. Bellatrix and Narcissa frowning as Draco stomped over to where Samael was exiting the train with a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. Pointing in their direction, the group turned towards the women. "There they are."

Hermione gaped at the sight before her, and gripped Fred _'Or was it George's?'_ arm tightly. "They are very beautiful," she murmured quietly, and the other twin whispered something that only she could hear before her blush returned again.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to them," Andras enthused, and pulled an exuberant Ginny towards them, whilst Hermione and the twins followed reluctantly behind. Upon seeing Andras, Narcissa pulled the wizard into an embrace and patted him affectionately on the cheek, before doing the same to an astonished Ginny.

Sirius stared at his cousin in surprise, _'Yes, I'll have to rethink everything if I want to fit into this new life with Regulus.'_

"Sirius!" said wizard started at the voice, and he spun around to find his godson staring at him. Robert though, Sirius narrowed his gaze in concern, Robert seemed _different_. There was an air of hopelessness about him, and a despondent lilt to his voice.

Pushing his worries to the side for a moment, Sirius beamed at him. "Heya, pup!" he called enthusiastically, whilst ruffling his hair. "Have you had a good time at school?"

A mumble met his question, one so quiet Sirius could not tell whether it was negative or affirmative. Frowning, Sirius grabbed one of Robert's trunks and began to wheel it behind him. "You didn't reply to any of the letters I sent after Yule," he started a conversation he knew Robert wouldn't want to partake in.

"It doesn't matter," Robert mumbled, whilst holding his arm out for Sirius' side-along apparition. Sirius took it with a frown and apparated them into Grimauld. Immediately, Robert hurried towards the kitchen, whilst Sirius began straightening his mother's portrait. Upon seeing him, she smiled sadly and murmured something too quietly for Sirius to hear.

He returned the sad smile before striding into the kitchen after his forlorn godson. Robert was leaning against the counter, with a glass of pumpkin juice clenched tightly in his hand. Sirius shifted into his view, and Robert rose his face to meet Sirius' eyes. Worry and foreboding grew quickly in his gut, and Sirius moved towards the sink to close the distance between them.

"So…" he began leadingly, "Have you heard anything back from that Lestrange boy? Samael?"

Instantly, hazel eyes shot up and Sirius saw the hurt shining in his eyes. _'I see,'_ Sirius thought. _'Unrequited love, eh?' _Robert's face shifted into scornful derision. "I don't know," he declared angrily, "He didn't reply to my letter at Yule."

Sirius rose an eyebrow in enquiry. "And did you sign the letter?"

Robert's sudden embarrassment, and awkward shifting told Sirius all the he needed to know. "And were you nice and charming? Or blunt and crude?" Sirius sighed softly, "Robert," he stated gently, whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you are trying to woo someone, the only excuse for anonymous letters is if you're being romantic. If you're just being crude, then it is slightly sinister and there is no incentive for him to reply."

Realisation dawned upon Robert's face, and he scowled at the ground. "It may be best if you didn't contact him again. You have probably scared the boy with whatever you said," Sirius suggested tentatively, knowing that Samael Lestrange would not be frightened at all by Robert's letter.

Suddenly, Robert smiled a bright smile. "I know what to do!" he cried exuberantly, whilst flinging his arms wide, causing his pumpkin juice to slosh out along the sides. "Thanks, Sirius!" and with that, he raced from the kitchen.

Sirius watched his departure with worry shining in his eyes and thoughts of his meeting with Severus last year arose in his mind. If Robert did not get his way, he did not know what he would do to Samael. Any attempts of dissuading Robert had fallen on deaf ears, and he genuinely struggled for a solution.

If he forbade Robert from contacting Samael, then surely Robert would just rebel and try harder. If he supported Robert's endeavours, then Robert would try harder. If he ignored Robert's attempts, then he would try harder, convinced of the correctness of his path.

It was at this point, the familiar urge for liqueur burned strongly in his throat and he felt sick at the slave he still was to its presence. He had rid the house of alcohol nearly two years ago, and hadn't touched a drop since. _'But one drop couldn't hurt…NO!'_ Grabbing the nearest goblet, he filled it to the brim with water and gulped it down as fast as he could.

The sudden knocking of the door shocked him, and he dropped the remaining water down his shirt. "Shit!" he cursed, and wiped uselessly at his shirt just as a buoyant Kreacher bounced into the room with Regulus following close behind him.

Sirius faltered at the sight of his younger brother, and all too quickly he remembered why he rushed to clean the house this morning. Shakily he grasped the corner of the counter and leant against it heavily. "Hullo, Regulus," he greeted smoothly, "Please take a seat."

Regulus cast an uncertain glance at his brother before complying. "Are you not well, Sirius?" he asked worriedly, "You have a ghastly pallor about you, and you're shaking something awful." He made to stand, but Sirius lunged towards the table, shocking Regulus into sitting down.

Gasping for breath, he slumped into the seat opposite Regulus. "I'm fine. Nothing too serious." He flashed his trademark grin at the old joke, and Regulus grimaced.

"There is something wrong then?" Regulus continued shrewdly, his eyes narrowed upon Sirius' face assessing for whatever it was that ailed his brother.

"I'm f…"

"You are not fine!" Regulus urged vehemently, whilst placing a soft hand upon Sirius' arm. "Please," he pleaded softly. "Please just tell me what is wrong."

Shaking his head fervently, Sirius felt the tell-tale burning in his nose, and through his tear-filmed vision, Sirius could make out Regulus rising from his seat and crouching beside him.

"Sirius, please."

Sniffling, Sirius angrily wiped his tears away. "I can't!" he croaked, _'I don't want you to think less of me than you already do.' _

Regulus narrowed his eyes further, "Is this about your past?" he enquired. Sirius flinched at the question, and ducked his head to stare at his feet. "I know of some of it. The court-cases and your disinheritance, and I can guess at the rest."

Regulus sighed quietly, and stood from his position aside Sirius. The elder wizard's shoulders wracked with a silent sob at Regulus' abandonment, before he felt a warm arm wrap around him. Glancing up, he saw an understanding warmth in Regulus' eyes.

The acceptance Sirius saw evoked more emotion from him then anything probably could, and the tears spilled from his eyes with greater intensity than before. "I…I am…was an alcoholic," he murmured shame-faced.

"But you're not one now." Regulus stated the question, sure of the answer.

Sirius nodded shakily, and Regulus pulled Sirius' head closer to his chest; embracing him tightly. "Shhh," he hushed softly, "I am proud of you, so proud of you."

Incredulity shone clearly on Sirius' face. "I nearly drank today!" he yelled angrily, spittle flying from his mouth. Regulus remained unmoved, and merely tightened his grip on Sirius.

"But you did not succumb, Sirius. And that is the important thing. You are strong, don't you ever doubt that." Gently, he pushed the wild locks of Sirius' hair out of his face and grasped his chin with a light but strong grip. "Do you understand?"

Staring intently into his younger brother's gaze, Sirius nodded and pulled away from Regulus' grip. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly wiped his eyes before standing and heated the kettle. "Tea?" he enquired lightly.

Regulus fiddled with the locket upon his chest and answered the affirmative. Noticing the movement, Sirius frowned slightly. "When is the bonding ceremony?" he asked quietly.

Grey eyes met grey, and Regulus's posture stiffened. "Yule. I trust you will be there," he answered somewhat guardedly.

Sirius placed a steaming cup in front of his brother. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Reg," he replied easily, sighing into his tea. "I don't know this Marvolo very well. What I do know is that he's powerful and dangerous," Regulus' face grew more impassive with each word Sirius spoke. "_But_, he loves you very much, and he makes you happy, and that's good enough for me."

"Besides," Sirius added nonchalantly, "All politicians give me the creeps. Nothing against your Marvolo or anything but he is set on becoming Minister, ain't he?" Regulus snorted in amusement, and nodded. Sirius through his arms wide. "Well then! My point exactly."

Regulus shook his head, and took a sip of his tea. "Why do you dislike politicians so much?"

Sirius scrunched his nose in distaste, "They're always hiding something." Sirius narrowed his eyes shrewdly, "Your Marvolo is hiding something too, and you and the rest of the family know what it is." Regulus opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius waved him aside. "You don't need to tell me, Reg. I'm terrible at occlumency and if you're this determined to keep it secret then you shouldn't tell me."

Regulus remained silent for a few moments, just assessing Sirius with his eyes before a fond smile stretched his face. "I forgot how observant you were."

Sirius grinned widely, and summoned a garibaldi from the biscuit tin. "Tell the truth, Reg. I'm nosy and love to rub peoples' noses in their own messes." Regulus threw his head back with raucous laughter, and the cherry-wood chair complained at the sudden movement.

"Yes you are," the younger wizard agreed, before his face grew serious. "This secret though, Sirius. It's nothing dangerous, it's just…" Regulus bit his lip, and glanced over towards the door. "Marvolo's little brother has suffered greatly at the hands of certain people high up in the Ministry, and we're just trying to protect him."

Sirius felt his gut lurch at the words. He never did have much faith in the Ministry, but to hear that they had their hands muckied with assault of children completely obliterated whatever trust remained.

"You are welcome to visit, Sirius," Regulus stated, whilst fiddling with a chip in his cup. "Marvolo is hardly there during the day and Bella and Narcii visit sometimes, but most of the time it's just me."

Again, Sirius' stomach churned with guilt and want. "I would love to, Reg. But I'm at the shop most days. I ran myself into a ridiculous amount debt with my _problem_, and I can't afford to not go."

Regulus smiled sadly, "I understand, Sirius. Do not look so ashamed. You have your priorities in the correct order, but do you not have any days off?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "The next one isn't until next Wednesday."

"Visit then," Regulus suggested brightly.

"Well Molly _is_ taking Robert for most of the holidays since she doesn't trust me to," Sirius sneered distastefully, before it morphed into a disturbed frown. "He's turning more into James with each day."

Regulus grimaced at the mention of Sirius' former friend, he much preferred Remus. "So, you are not averse to visiting me next Wednesday?"

"Of course not! And you are welcome whenever you want."

"Does that apply to Narcii and Bella as well?" Regulus enquired lightly. Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Regulus cut him off. "They are your family too. I know you think they hate you but they don't. They just do not understand why you rejected the Black tradition."

Sirius gaped at his younger brother, before closing his mouth and staring into his milky tea. Moments passed in silence, as Sirius stirred the spoon mindlessly. "I cannot tell them, for I do not understand it myself," Sirius murmured quietly, "I was determined to be Slytherin until I was sorted into Gryffindor. I just assumed Mother and Father would be disappointed."

Understanding shone in Regulus' eyes. "So you cut your ties with them before they could?" Regulus questioned, Sirius merely shrugged his shoulders. "You knew Gryffindor wouldn't accept you because of our family and Dark inclination, so you adapted and completely changed your personality. And you managed to convince yourself of your new persona along the way."

"I suppose so," Sirius mumbled, before sipping his tepid tea.

Immediately, Regulus began chuckling maniacally. Sirius glared at his brother's reaction, and threw a spare garibaldi at him. "Oi!" Regulus gasped between guffaws, before throwing the biscuit back at him. "Don't you see, Siri?" Sirius continued to glare, and Regulus bit his lip to stop the laughing. "By adapting and evolving to fit into Gryffindor, you were displaying Slytherin traits!"

Sirius gaped uselessly, causing Regulus to burst into laughter once more. Sparkling grey eyes met their counterparts, and before long Sirius couldn't help but snicker at the situation. Smiling fondly, Regulus stood to his feet and drank the remaining dregs of tea. Sirius copied his movements, and pulled his brother into a tight hug.

"Sirius!" Robert's voice cried out distantly, "I've figured it out!" he declared loudly, crashing into the kitchen counter on his hurry into the room. Sirius and Regulus sprang apart at the arrival of Robert.

Upon seeing Regulus, Robert sidled closer towards Sirius and whispered: "Who's he?"

"Robert," Sirius stated brightly, whilst indicating towards Regulus. "This is my brother, Regulus. Regulus, this is my godson, Robert."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Robert," Regulus greeted cordially, "Sirius has spoken often of you."

Robert sneered, "Funny that, he never talks about you."

"Robert!" Sirius cried angrily, and threw Regulus a horrified look. "Apologise immediately! I will not have you speaking to guests in my house that way!"

Robert shuffled his feet, and glared furiously at Regulus. "Sorry," he spat venomously.

Sirius' face grew darker by the second, whilst Robert's reddened. Regulus hid his amused smirk behind his hand. "Say it like you mean it," he threatened, deathly quiet. Moments passed with Robert saying nothing, before Sirius snarled. "Right, that's it. Go to your room this instant!"

"What? No!" the teenager screamed in outrage, "You can't do that to me. I'm nearly _fifteen_!"

Sirius' face could have melted stone. "Kreacher!" he demanded crisply, and the old Elf appeared, his bulbous, green eyes blinking curiously around the room. "Please take Robert to his room. Do not follow any of his orders, he is being punished for his indignant behaviour. Dinner shall be served to him at 6pm."

The little elf's eyes brightened with glee, and he nodded happily at Sirius. "Of course, Master!" and before they could blink, Kreacher seized Robert by the arm and disappeared.

Srius slumped tiredly on himself, and shared a pained look at his brother. "I'm so sorry, Regulus. I do speak about you! Robert is just," Sirius sighed, and roughly pulled his hand through his hair. "I just don't understand."

Regulus patted Sirius encouragingly on the back with a soft chuckle. "The joys of teenage children, eh?" he joked. Sirius pretended he didn't hear Regulus' quieter comment of: "And a Potter too. Never been the most calm-headed." Though if he was honest with himself, Regulus made a very good point.

Leading Regulus towards the door, they both smiled at their mother's portrait. Upon seeing them, Walburga's smiled a watery smile, before she turned her back and walked from the frame. "It was good seeing you, Reg," Sirius murmured softly, and nudged his shoulder lightly. "Give my regards to Marvolo."

"Of course I shall," Regulus answered, and quickly hugged his brother again. "Take care of yourself, Sirius. You're doing a great job, and if you ever feel that you're in over your head just floo for me." Nodding stiffly, Sirius waved him goodbye.

Regulus was on the pavement before Sirius spoke again. "Reg?" he called softly. Said man faced his brother with an inquisitive expression. Nervously, Sirius tugged the ends of his hair. "Tell Narcii and Bella that they're welcome anytime."

Regulus' answering smile was the brightest he had smiled all day.

* * *

><p>Pale fingers fiddled with the raven locks until the curls had just the right amount of bounce. Samael frowned at his reflection in the mirror, dissatisfied with what he saw. Brushing some lint from his shoulder before he made quick work of his buttoned waistcoat, Samael assessed his appearance with a critical eye.<p>

Wrinkling his nose in frustration, Samael sighed and exited his room. _'It will have to do,'_ he thought as he descended the wide, ornate staircase. Striding through the manor, he quickly made his way towards the floo-room where he spotted his father dressed in full wizengamot regalia.

Rodolphus nodded at his son, and raised an eyebrow at in enquiry. Samael ignored the knowing gaze in his eyes, and tapped his cane somewhat impatiently. "I was not aware Wizengamot were reconvening again for this year."

"No, we were not meant to be meeting. However, we have been summoned to watch over a trial of an ex-DMLE member. None of us are sure who, but it's most likely scandalous and will most definitely be entertaining."

Samael dearly looked forward to the upcoming Daily Prophets'. Rita Skeeter had developed a reputation for covering the hard-hitting stories, which this one was definitely going to be, and she had such a delightful way with words too. "Well I am sure you will enjoy your day," he stated, whilst moving towards the fireplace aside Rodolphus'. "I am going to see the Malfoys. I have informed an elf and they shall inform mother once she has awoken."

Rodolphus rolled his eyes in amusement whilst grabbing a handful of floo-powder. "Your mother sleeps like the dead," he murmured, "Have a nice day!" were his last words to his son before he stepped into the fireplace, shouted 'Ministry of Magic' and was whisked away.

Samael copied his father's actions and called his destination. The travel experience was its usual, dizzying sensation. He felt the surge of power before the floo spat him out, and regally stepped from the fireplace with ease. Glancing around the Malfoy's arrival room, he called an elf to his side.

Instantly, one of them arrived, tweaking its ears nervously. Samael smiled reassuringly at it, and asked it the whereabouts of the youngest Malfoy. Once the elf revealed the information, Samael sent it away with a small thank you.

Samael shook his head at the Malfoy's, well Lucius', treatment of the elves that resulted in them being such nervous wrecks. It wasn't too difficult to treat them kindly, though the taller blonde did not have the patience for the small beings.

'_Narcissa and Draco treat them with respect. This will be advantageous. After all, a happy elf is a loyal elf.' _At least, this was Samael's thought before he spotted the origami swan. The delicate paper creation flapped its long wings and made its way to Samael in just a few short strokes.

A flutter of surprise rose in his chest at the sight. His secret admirer was determined. It had been almost two years with no reply, and yet his admirer persisted with his task nonetheless. Samael would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the effort the wizard went to. The amount of dedication and adoration that the letters showed was almost unbelievable, and were it not for Draco, Samael would most probably have succumbed months ago.

But this was Malfoy Manor. Any mail that arrived to the Manor was automatically directed to the mail-room to be sorted for any malicious curses or hexes before the inhabitants read them. Then, after rigorous checking, the mail was taken to the Head Elf where it was personally delivered to the addressed inhabitant. _No _mail would ever find its intended without an elf.

'_Which means,' _Samael's brain had a temporary lapse of processing, as the only plausible explanation became clear. _'Which means it had to have been sent by someone within the manor.'_

Shaking his head softly, he deftly made quick work of disassembling the creature until the familiar calligraphy was visible.

_My dearest Samael,_

_I am astounded every time I lay my eyes upon you, and often staggered when your mesmerising emerald gaze is upon me. The stars pale in comparison, and I am sure they shall all fall from the sky in jealous rage. _

_Your magic is as breath-taking as your beauty, and your logic bests it completely._

_You beautiful creature, you should already know that I'm forever yours._

Warmth filled his stomach, and he cursed how flushed his cheeks were. Why did his admirer have to be so eloquent and charming? Taking the corridor on the left, the library doors stood before him. One was open, and Samael could see the beautifully adorned spines staring back at him.

His nerves spiked dramatically, and he avidly attempted to ignore them as he passed through the large oak door and entered the library. The plush carpeted room was warm and inviting, as the candles illuminated a soft, comforting glow throughout the room.

Samael didn't have to think twice to where he would find Draco. The blonde could always be found in an old armchair at the back of the library, where a giant bay window behind provided a source of natural light whenever the weather was calm enough to do so. Today though, the overcast sky had no effect on the lighting, and Draco was enthralled with his book.

A satisfied smile stretched Draco's face. A small candle was lit on the side-table, and _'oh, could that possibly?' _a quill sat beside an ink-pot and several sheets of parchment. Samael's fists tightened at the sight of the objects, and his letter was crumpled beyond belief as a result. He must have made a sound, because Draco's startled silver eyes rose from the pages of his book to stare at him.

"Samael!" he greeted with a beaming smile. "Hello, what are you doing here?" a confused moue formed upon Draco's face, before he scowled. "Did you have fun with your Hufflepuffs yesterday?"

Samael shook his head softly, fists shaking ever so slightly at the adrenaline that was being secreted with increasing frequency. "I was gathering intel," he murmured absently. "I need to speak to you."

Concern spread itself across Draco's features, and he rose from his seat. "What is it, Samael? Has something happened?"

The nerves in his gut squirmed and Samael was beginning to feel physically ill at their presence. Why did this have to be so difficult? Draco was looking at Samael expectantly, expecting a verbal answer. Instead, Samael held his letter out towards the blonde.

Draco's brows furrowed in confusion, but he accepted the crumpled parchment anyway. Straightening the letter, Draco's face paled and Samael's suspicions were confirmed. Wide, silver eyes stared in a mixture of confusion and fright at him. "I don't understand," the blonde stated. "This is one of your courting letters."

Samael, emboldened by the recent revelation, stalked forward. A predatory smirk curled his lips as he stared at his friend. "Correct, Draco. More specifically, it is the courting letter that _you _just sent me."

Samael believed that the common Muggle idiom 'deer caught in a headlight' could be applied to this situation, as Draco's terrified eyes bore into Samael, before they were hidden behind his mask. Draco swallowed. "Yes I did," his voice as impassive as his eyes. "Do you have a problem with it?"

Samael felt his heart sink like stone, "Was this some kind of joke to you?" he questioned stonily, eyes darkening with every word spoken. "Let's see how Samael reacts to your letters and then laugh behind his back!"

Startled, Draco could only stare as Samael released his anger upon him.

"Severus must have been wrong!" he declared suddenly, whilst striding passed the blonde. "Severus was adamant that you cared for me."

"Samael," Draco attempted to explain, but Samael would not let him.

"Don't you dare interrupt me!" Samael thundered, voice breaking with the anger and hurt that had overcome him. "Clearly Severus was wrong and this was all a farce." Samael threw his one good arm out in a gesture to symbolise Draco and his relationship.

"Samael." Draco attempted once more, but the Lestrange's piercing, emerald eyes fixed themselves upon a very panicked Draco.

Samael stared absently at the blonde. "I just do not understand why you would do something so cruel to me. Do you regard me so little?"

"Samael, please let me…!"

"No!" Samael threw his cane into the bookshelf opposite him before sinking into the nearest armchair. Fingers tugged harshly at his curls and he sighed at a rather dishevelled Draco. "I never should have listened to Severus," he stated mournfully. "I thought that I could finally have what I wanted after years of thinking it was impossible." A small hysterical laugh fell from his lips, "Circe, I am so pathetic. How could I let myself become like this? I never should have let you in."

Draco cautiously stepped closer towards the Lestrange. "Would you please let me explain?"

Samael sent Draco a droll stare. "Why does it matter?" he questioned tiredly. Draco's face reddened (with embarrassment or frustration Samael did not know), and he took a step forward.

"Because I'm in love with you!" he all but shouted, his normally-groomed hair wild about his face. Samael's face displayed all the emotional turmoil he had experienced in the past five minutes before settling into shock. "You had me falling for you since the moment I met you, and I will never give up on you. Especially now that I know you feel the same."

Smiling fondly at the Lestrange, Draco crouched so they were on level before stroking a finger gently down his face. "I could never let you go now, Samael," he admitted softly, "You are my everything. His silver eyes softened until Samael was sure he could see straight into Draco's soul.

And what he saw there…

A shiver raced through his body, and ever so hesitantly, he placed his hand atop Draco's. "I'm your everything?" he repeated with wonder. Draco simply nodded, and Samael's answering smile could beatify even the most inhumane scoundrels.

Encouraged by Draco's words, Samael leaned in closer until their breaths mingled. "And you meant the words in your letters?"

Draco nodded rapidly. "Every single one of them," he replied breathlessly, eyes focused intently on Samael's lips. With the adrenaline coursing its way through his veins, Samael could feel a heady sense of euphoria fill his bones. Feeling bold, he closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips against Draco's.

He drew away momentarily to just stare into Draco's eyes, which were misted over in happiness and lust. Giddy with the adrenaline (and most likely Magical Influence too), he fell back in for a second kiss. Draco gladly complied, and sank a hand into Samael's hair whilst the other rested on his hip.

Moments passed, lost in the Ineverwantthistostop emotion, before, Draco pulled away and rested his forehead against Samael's. "You're so beautiful, Samael." Draco stroked the raven hair idly. "Your eyes, your magic, your brain. Circe, I can't believe that you're mine."

Samael smiled widely and pressed a swift kiss to Draco's lips. "Well I am yours," Samael stated brightly, "As you are mine." They smiled at each other, before Samael began chuckling softly, "Severus will be pleased, he's waited too long for this apparently."

Draco smirked. "So have I."

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><p><strong>AN: **Hi guys, so here I am a week *ahem* 4 weeks later. I've got no excuses, well I sort of do. I'm sick, no really I am. I've got a sick-note and everything! Plus, I've been having these crazy Merlin ideas racing around my head that are too stupid to even contemplate writing.

Anyhoo, THEY'VE FINALLY ADMITTED THEY LOVE EACH OTHER *TO* EACH OTHER (YAY)!

Love you all!


	33. Consequences

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The character and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies, e.g. Bloomsbury.

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><p><span>Consequences<span>

_A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect;_

_Every action in this world will bear a consequence;_

_If you wade around forever you will surely drown;_

_I see what's going down._

_Face Down - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus._

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><p>Marvolo watched his brother's movements critically. There was definitely something <em>off <em>about the way Samael was carrying himself, he was more confident, and his sharp, emerald eyes held a glint of _satisfaction? _Marvolo frowned even further as Samael approached Bellatrix and began to speak to her in soft tones.

The witch automatically sank her long-clawed fingers into Samael's hair, and she stared shrewdly at her son as he spoke, obviously as confused about his sudden change of character as Marvolo. Shaking his head lightly, Marvolo lightly lifted a champagne flute from the nearby table and took a delicate sip.

Glancing at the champagne thoughtfully. _'Ah, Ruinart Blanc de Blanc.' _A smirk stretched his face, _'Nothing but the best for Lucius' birthday.'_ Speaking of which, the unmistakable blonde was standing imperiously by the marble pillar, listening to Fudge's wild exclamations with an expression of devout patience upon his face. However, excitedly standing behind the diminutive man, was that awful, dowdy, pitiful excuse of a woman, Umbridge.

Inwardly grimacing at the sight of the woman, Marvolo quickly spun upon his heel and stalked towards the familiar brunette walking towards him. Grasping the other man gently by the wrists, Marvolo led him in for a soft kiss. "Good evening, darling." Smiling, Marvolo wrapped his arm around Regulus' shoulders, and steered him away from Lucius' direction. "We will not entangle ourselves in that predicament. I will probably murder the woman within a minute."

A delighted laugh escaped Regulus' lips, yet he acquiesced nonetheless; allowing his betrothed to guide him away. "Tell me," Marvolo stated lightly, with a quirk of the lips. "Does something seem strange about Samael?"

Grey eyes instantly searched for the teen, and Marvolo watched Regulus' face intently; satisfied when it morphed into realisation. However, Marvolo wasn't as pleased when Regulus began laughing _at _him. "Oh Marvolo, how can you not realise?" Regulus enquired breathlessly. The elder wizard merely scowled at Regulus, and the younger wizard sighed in exasperation. "Samael is in love!" he declared happily.

'_Love?_' Marvolo thought with confusion, however he did not voice this. Instead: "Samael has been in love with the young Malfoy since they first met," he drawled, whilst sending Regulus an unamused smile.

Regulus merely sighed again, and pointed a pale finger towards where Draco was standing beside his mother. "Draco can hardly contain his emotions, just look at his face," Regulus instructed blandly. Marvolo complied with his betrothed's wishes, and glanced at the young Malfoy who was…brimming with happiness? Furrowing his brows, Marvolo peered at the blond more intently, who ever so often glanced upon Samael, who returned the glance with a smile '_like a boy in love. Oh…_'

"I see," Marvolo stated calmly, a wicked smirk stretching his features. "Well, it is about time I would say," he murmured with amusement. "I think poor Severus has been wishing that those two would admit their feelings since they entered Hogwarts."

Regulus chuckled, before pulling Marvolo towards the entrée table. "So you approve of the match?"

Marvolo gently grasped Regulus' hand as he reached for a devilled egg. "Have the salmon instead," he said quietly, "The eggs are absolutely vile."

"Lucius would despair over your criticism," Regulus declared with amusement, yet followed Marvolo's advice nonetheless.

"Lucius should know better," was Marvolo's easy reply, whilst reclaiming his hold on Regulus' arm. "Now, of course I approve of the match; Draco has proved himself countless times. The sheer determination, loyalty and selflessness he has shown is impressive." Suddenly, intense teal eyes bore into Regulus. "Did you say that your brother will visit the Manor tomorrow?"

Regulus nodded; smiling charmingly as they passed the Greengrass family. "That is correct. You are welcome to join us if you wish," Regulus said with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Marvolo paused their walk, and raised a hand to gently trace his thumb across Regulus' lips. "You are aware that I must attend Wizengamot in the morning. However," Gently, Marvolo pulled Regulus' bottom lip. "If your brother is still at the Manor when I return, then I shall engage him in conversation."

Regulus answering smile was blinding. "That is all I ask of you." A small smirk appeared on Regulus' face. "For today that is," he amended with a small chuckle. Marvolo tutted and tilted the smaller wizard's face upwards for a kiss.

"You should be glad that I love you as much as I do," he murmured softly against Regulus' lips. "If anyone else was as pertinent as you are, then I would torture them within an instant."

Regulus smiled coyly, and patted Marvolo's arm tenderly. "Well that is blatantly untrue," he stated; causing Marvolo's face to darken with displeasure. "Samael is equally, if not, more defiant than I, and you would never dream of harming a hair upon his head."

Marvolo glared down upon his fiancée, and waved a dismissive hand. "Samael is an exception. He has granted me a boon, and even if he did anger me enough that I acted upon my rage, he would eagerly duel me."

Regulus nodded as if expecting the answer; Samael was a frighteningly good dueller. Whilst his agility was understandably limited due to his ankle, the speed in which he could fire his spells was astounding, and the diversity of his repertoire was amazing. "What of Severus then?" Regulus challenged, his grey eyes bright with mischief. "You would think twice before harming him."

Marvolo narrowed his eyes, at the man who was intentionally attempting to rile him. _'What do you desire from my rage, darling?'_ "You are aware that I have always held Severus dear to my heart; I regard him almost as a father would a son. First and foremost, however, Severus is my loyal Death Eater, and I have and will continue to punish him for any misdemeanour and failure he has committed."

Regulus' eyes twinkled, as he swiftly danced away from Marvolo's hold and stretched out a hand. The older wizard merely raised an eyebrow. Regulus huffed in annoyance, and mock-glared at his fiancée. "Dance with me," he instructed lightly, and suddenly Regulus' attempts to anger him made sense.

Marvolo stalked towards him; hunger gleaming in his eyes. "There is no music," he commented simply, whilst trailing his fingers down Regulus' cheek. The smaller wizard leaned into the touch, a contented smile appearing upon his face.

"You can solve that problem," Regulus murmured, gazing up at the wizard from heavy-lidded eyes.

Marvolo did not grace Regulus with a verbal reply, instead he summoned his magic until a small orb formed and began emitting a slow, graceful rhythm. Wordlessly, Marvolo took Regulus' right hand, possessively took hold of his waist and led him into a steady dance.

Smiling ever so softly, he pressed a light kiss to his hair. "If you wanted to be closer to me, all you had to do was ask." The only response Marvolo received, was a small noise of agreement before Regulus placed his head upon Marvolo's shoulder and closed his eyes.

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><p>Victoria shuffled towards the window, where a small, brown, barn owl was insistently pecking upon the glass. "Hey, calm down darlin'," she cooed softly, whilst opening the latch. The weary owl hopped onto the sill and seemed to collapse upon itself, so all it resembled was a ball of feathers.<p>

Crooning softly, Victoria quickly grabbed some cold meat from her sandwich and waved it temptingly in front of the owl. "Look, darlin', here you go. That's a good owl." She encouraged gently, as the little bird greedily snatched the food from her fingers.

Swiftly, she detached the letter from the bird's leg, and placed the remainder of her sandwich before the owl for it to enjoy. "Who's your master, darlin'?" she mused aloud, whilst making swift work of the ribbon around the parchment.

_Ms. Effing_

The words were written in a delicate calligraphic scrawl, one which had her immediately reminiscent of her Hogwarts days with her friend Agatha Mulciber, whose handwriting was the most beautiful she had ever seen. However, the sender was definitely not Agatha, and she did not know many other people whose handwriting was so fine.

_Dear Ms. Effing,_

_This letter serves one purpose, and that is to declare my sincerest and deepest apologies for my actions in November 1992. _

_I definitely should have sent this letter to you immediately after my vicious and deplorable attack, however, it took some time for me to figure out my life and settle it back upon track. Many knew of my alcohol abuse, and it took until recently for me to be completely clean of it._

_If you were to ask my brother for the provenance of my vile behaviour, he will regale you with some rot of my emotional well- being and attempts to avoid disappointment. However, I believe it is his attempt of justifying his elder-brother's actions so as to not be disappointed himself._

_Please do not mistake this letter as an attempt to win your forgiveness, it is merely to inform you of my deepest apologies. If you desire compensation, I would be happy to accommodate your wish (within reason of course). Due to my past indiscretions, though, my income is humble, however I will endeavour to recompense you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Sirius Black._

Victoria frowned thoughtfully at the letter. Of course she knew of his alcoholic ways, practically most people remembered the newspaper coverage of his drunken and disorderly behaviour nearly a decade ago. She smelled the alcohol on his breath when she first began her job at Hogwarts, and saw him swigging from a hip-flask the night of the Potters' conviction.

Did she have any hard-feelings towards Sirius Black for his attack? Not at all. He was a drunken mess, who could hardly see straight the majority of the time. The fact that he was attempting to pull his life back together, and was accepting responsibility for his actions said more for his character than against it.

Did she begrudge him for his persecution against Slytherins when they schooled together? Most definitely…when they were children that was. She was almost thirty-two years old, and had accepted the past long ago.

However, that did not mean she would not take advantage of this open offer he had practically dangled before her nose. She was a Slytherin after all, and one that was desperately in need of a new broom.

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><p>Dolores Umbridge leaned into the delightfully welcoming cushions of her armchair, and stared intently at the fire; watching. He would be calling soon, to finalise the plans, and she did not want to miss his arrival because of her gippy back. Reaching to the side, she grasped the handle of her favourite mug and took a long sip of her milky tea. Satisfaction.<p>

The fire suddenly flared, intense flames curling into a recognisable face whose familiar smirk was still present upon his face. "Dolores," he greeted cordially, "Have you settled in comfortably? Whilst Hogwarts has its prestige, it is hardly renown for its comforts."

Standing from her chair, the pink-clad woman knelt before the fire and thrust her head into the flames. "Thank you for worrying about my health, Oswald. My quarters are quite suitable; though the thought of teaching these brats for the rest of the year is highly displeasing."

Oswald's face morphed into an expression of intense sympathy. "Yes, I understand, Dolores. Which is why your efforts are very much appreciated by us all."

Dolores adopted a pained look, whilst shifting her weight onto her other knee. "I still do not quite comprehend why my presence is required with these _children_," she sneered distastefully, "Surely, I would be much better with other Lords and Ladies at social gatherings. Take Lord Malfoy's birthday ball for instance, I was much appreciated there. He spoke with me for almost two hours!"

Oswald nodded, and a muffled sound came from his end of the floo connection. Quickly glancing behind him, he seemed satisfied with the privacy as he quickly resumed the conversation. "I know, Dolores. However, you are the only one of us with the relevant qualifications to become a Hogwarts professor."

The pink woman wrinkled her nose in disgust, yet resigned herself to her current fate. "Very well. I suppose it shouldn't be that too difficult of a task." Oswald nodded encouragingly from the other end of the connection.

"That's the spirit, Dolores."

"How difficult is it to convince the children of what they already know and tell their parents?" she questioned aloud. "Filthy half-breeds shouldn't receive the same rights as us. I can only imagine what Lord Slytherin was thinking when he proposed the act!"

From his crouched position outside the woman's office, Neville's eyes grew wide. He didn't know why he stopped when he saw Umbridge's open office-door, but a horrible sensation formed within his gut when he heard the woman's welcoming speech earlier. And if there was one thing he had learned by now, it was to trust his gut. So he stayed, and listened to her conversation with the strange man.

'_Who should I tell?' _he wondered, the worry only growing when the apparent options narrowed significantly. _'Mother and Father would surely be annoyed, though they would not dare to interfere with Wizengamot votes.' _ Desperately, he searched his mind for any person who would be willing to stop this madness.

'_Professor Snape,' _the words suddenly floated across his mind, and a flash of terror struck his body, before he steeled himself. He could not allow his own fear to hinder the path of justice, and reluctantly hurried towards the imposing man's office.

Shadows moved in abandoned alcoves, despite the candles lighting themselves when they sensed his movement. A sense of foreboding crawled up his spine, and he could not shake the belief that eyes were watching his every move.

As he neared, he spotted several Slytherins lingering outside Snape's office. Upon seeing him, they regarded him with wary gazes. Shakily, he stopped a few feet from them and inclined his head lowly. "Hullo," he greeted quietly, "Are – Are you waiting to speak to Professor Snape?" he asked.

The shortest Slytherin, a jumpy yet quizzical-looking girl nodded. She reminded him of Luna. _'Relax, Neville!'_ he admonished himself lightly, and forced himself into a less-intimidating stance, and smiled. "Ah, okay. I'll just wait here then."

"What are you doing here?" the girl asked, not rudely, but curiously. The two other Slytherins nodded behind her. Staring at them, he concluded they could not be above second-year. Perhaps, this was their first night at Hogwarts.

"Me?" they nodded again, "Oh, I just need to tell Professor Snape something I heard about. It is rather distressing news about the conduct of a certain professor, and the impact it may have upon an act within Wizengamot."

The boy beside the girl, mouthed the word 'Wizengamot' in confusion, but the girl merely shook her head. Neville smiled reassuringly. "Are you muggleborn?" he questioned. Immediately, they stiffened and regarded him guardedly, yet nodded nonetheless. His smile grew wider. "One of my friends is muggleborn, and she's the smartest witch in the school. Just you ask any student or professor about Hermione Granger, and they will tell you." The three Slytherins stared shrewdly at him, and Neville encourage himself to continue with this conversation after the progress he had made. "Wizengamot is the governing body we have in the Magical World, the law-making body," he explained kindly, and the girl smiled tentatively at him in thanks.

"Longbottom," a surprised voice called, and Neville spun around to stare at Draco Malfoy and Samael Lestrange. "What in the name of Circe are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the tower?" Draco asked.

"Ah, yes. I may have come by some information pertaining to the Magical Being act Lord Slytherin is attempting to pass through Wizengamot."

Instantly, Samael's emerald eyes narrowed upon Neville. Draco glanced at Samael, and in that one look an entire conversation seemed to pass between the two of them. Draco turned to the three (presumably) first-years, and stated in his most authoritative voice. "Come with me. I shall show you how to use the floo, and introduce you to the other relevant things you may or may not need."

The silver-eyed teen ushered the Slytherins down the corridor, yet Samael's shrewd gaze followed after him. "Draco," he called softly, whilst pointing surreptitiously to the girl on the end. "Severus keeps the pain-reliever behind Magdmus' painting in the common room." Draco's eyes flared with righteous anger, and nodded tightly in return. "I shall see you later," Samael ended, and his eyes held a warmth that Neville had never seen before.

Once Draco was out of sight, Samael turned sharply to the Gryffindor. "Come now, Longbottom," he intoned calmly, "We have important matters to discuss." And with those words, Samael rapped sharply against the door with his cane.

A few moments later, the door flew open and the outraged face of Severus Snape loomed over them. "Longbottom!" he seethed, his onyx eyes dark with anger. Samael prodded Severus' chest with his cane; drawing the elder wizard's attention to him. "Samael? What is the meaning of this?!" he questioned, "I need to see to the first-years before I can escape these dunderheads." He glanced pointedly towards Longbottom, who ducked his head to avoid the elder-wizard's eyes.

Samael rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Draco is seeing to the first-years, do not worry. There was one girl who will require special attention; Draco is showing her to Magdmus' portrait." Severus' jaw tightened, and he turned his attention towards the pale-faced Gryffindor.

Samael smirked at the Longbottom, and prodded him with his cane. "Longbottom has come by some important information."

Severus glared even further at Samael's vague answer, yet opened the door wider; ushering the two students into his office. "Very well," he acquiesced; glowering at the empty corridor before slamming the door shut behind him. Spinning around, his glower darkened further when he saw Samael draped across the chaise, and Longbottom lingering near the bookcase.

"Longbottom!" he barked roughly, "Stop dawdling, and sit down!" the Gryffindor hurriedly complied, whilst casting Severus a frightening pleading face. "Now, pray tell, why are you polluting my dungeons?"

The chubby Gryffindor gulped; before he began to regale the two Slytherins with his tale. During the story, Samael's grasp tightened upon his cane, and his emerald eyes burned bright with rage. Once the Longbottom had finished speaking, he stared worriedly at the fidgeting Lestrange.

Suddenly, Samael shot to his feet, and stared down at Severus. "I will floo my brother immediately; this farce shall not continue any longer." With those words, Samael moved towards the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. Neville did not hear the destination Samael called, nor could he see the face which appeared in the flames.

Nervously, Neville glanced at the Potions Master, who was staring intently at the wall; obviously lost in thought. Immediately, a sense of foolishness overcame him. Why did he always have to embarrass himself like this? He had always been terrible with situations; he just seemed incapable of small-talk or entertaining others with lively stories to fill awkward moments like this.

Soon, Samael reappeared. His face was pale and determined, a glint of _something _that Neville couldn't quite recognise within his eyes. Whatever it was, Neville knew the situation with Umbridge would be resolved soon. Though, that thought didn't quite relieve him of this nervousness within his stomach.

No, Neville was quite content with not knowing what Samael was planning. Severus glanced expectantly at Samael, one eyebrow raised in enquiry. Sighing, Samael tugged at a loose curl. "He has left this task to me."

Both eyebrows rose at the answer, and Severus' eyes darkened somewhat. "I am happy to aid you should you-" Samael showed Severus his free hand, instructing him to silence himself.

"You are aware of what my brother would say, Severus," he explained calmly; resolutely. "Regardless, your offer is very much appreciated. However, I cannot, and will not need your help."

Severus nodded tightly; understanding etched across his face, and Neville shifted uncomfortably from his place upon the chaise. He should not be intruding on this obviously private conversation, but his movement caused two intense pairs of eyes to bore into him.

His throat tightened. "I'm goi-," stuttering, he pointed uselessly at the door. "I'll just be going. Have a nice night." With that, he quickly strode towards the door.

"Neville," Samael's voice stopped him from leaving. Bracing himself, he faced the teen, who had returned to his usual charming self. "Thank you for this information. You cannot comprehend how helpful you have been."

His throat tightened even further, whilst the knot in his stomach tangled. Was it so wrong to do bad things for the right reason? "I…" Neville smiled shakily. "You're welcome," he whispered shakily, before swiftly exiting the room.

Neville released a relieved sigh at the sight of the empty corridor, though he could swear that before the office-door slammed shut, he heard a small voice whispering 'well done'.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hey guys, ummm, yeah it seems I'm terrible at my uni-work-fanfic balance! Sorry!

I hope you all had a happy holiday!

Ps, I was tempted to name the chapter 'Story Not Found' because I had 404 reviews! :P


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